Shooting and Falling
by Maddieiddam
Summary: Dean Winchester is a lifeguard on duty at a beach, when Castiel Novak, the only son of the crime lord Viktor Novak, is kidnapped. Dean catches the men who took him, saving his life in doing so. He's offered protection from the Novaks, but little does Dean know how much it will change his life, for better, and for worse.
1. Chapter 1

**As a forewarning, Castiel's speech is supposed to be... incorrect, so if you see weird or missing words in his dialogue, it's supposed to be that way. If it gets too confusing or irritating, let me know, and I'll make sure to forego it in future chapters.**

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"How much longer do I have?"

The palm of his hand dug into his cheek, the boiling sun stinging his skin, but Dean Winchester couldn't leave his stand. The beach was crowded, children and adults alike running back and forth across the sand, the thinning waves of the ocean splashing up on them, making them scream as though they were being killed despite the fact that the only thing being murdered was Dean's sanity.

"About 40 minutes, maybe a little less," a scratchy voice replied from Dean's side. He looked over to the rectangular box, reaching out to press in the ribbed button on the side.

"Fuck that! I'm done now."

A child smacked into one of the faded-white legs of his stand, startling Dean. He stood up to look over the edge at the child, who brushed his legs up as he stood and continued running back to who Dean assumed to be his parents. He shrugged and sat back down.

"Sit your ass down, Winchester. I sign your paycheck. You have to listen to me."

"You don't sign my paycheck," Dean replied, eyes scanning over the beach and the water near it. "You just give it to me 'cause I hate going in to the office to get it."

"Well, you still have to listen to me. Sit down."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I needed to check if this kid was okay. The little shit just ran into my stand."

The voice on the other end didn't respond for a minute. "Dude, what the fuck? Don't lie."

"Why would I lie about a kid hitting my stand?"

"'Cause a kid hit mine, like, five minutes ago and another one did like, 30 seconds ago."

"What the hell? That's fucking- What the fuck?" Dean stood up to look down, another kid smacking in to his stand. Dean blinked down at the little guy. He snapped his fingers. "Hey! Yo! Dude." The kid looked up. "What are you doing?"

"Running?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you're the second kid who's slammed in to that thing. Wanna run somewhere else, chief?"

"I'm not supposed to. I'm supposed to run through here."

"Supposed to?" Dean asked with disbelief, looking out at the beach, scanning it before looking back to the kid.

"Uh-huh. Supposed to."

"Says who?"

"That gu-" The kid looked back to point out the man, but nobody was there. "I don't know where he went, but he gave me twenty bucks to do this."

"To run in to the stand?"

"He said distract you, and that other kid did it, and it looked like it worked."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Get out of here, kid."

The kid darted off, and Dean sat back down. The little shit had done his job, distracting him well enough that he remained that way even after the little man had run away, the thought of why, and for what, Dean would need to be distracted for constantly running through his mind.

He was focused out on the outer barriers of his area, so much so that he was shocked out of his watch by his replacement guard showing up. Dean looked back at her. "You're early."

"I'm supposed to be here fifteen minutes before shift. Something you wouldn't know."

"You all love me."

"You do make the job interesting," she responded, stepping in to the small box of a room behind Dean. She perched herself up on the flat wooden rail when she came back out. "Anything weird going on today?"

Dean glanced over at her. "Yeah, actually. A bunch of kids were smacking into me and Mitchell's stands. Why d'ya ask?"

"There was this huge wreck I had to get by on the way in, right on the corner for the beach road entrance. It was a mess. Apparently they're looking for this guy who was forcibly removed from the car he was in. I mean, there were claw and scratch marks all over everything. They don't know if it actually was him, but the car belongs to one of those, like, crime families, and their only son's been missing all day. And I guess that the suspects of who took him are like, their rivals, because the car that hit him belongs to, well, their rivals."

"Which family? I know the Novak's have a son, but don't they have more kids?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Five daughters. He's the baby of the family and the only boy."

"Why would they be after him? And which family?"

"When you're the one-of-a-kind son of a powerful family, you're worth quite a lot. And I'm not sure, they didn't tell me. I'm thinking the Matveev's. At least that's the name I heard the most of."

Dean nodded. "Have they checked the shoreline yet?"

She shook her head. "No. Well, not really. They didn't think the kidnappers would be dumb enough to take them to a public beach.

"Then I'm gonna go check out the private beach when I'm done here, alright?" Her eyes grew wide and he explained farther. "I don't think I'll see anything, but one of those kids pointed that way when I asked him what the fuck he was doing. Said some guy sent him to distract us."

"Only two of them came?"

"I guess. But I wanna see if I can figure out what's going on."

"You can go now," she shrugged, hopping down from her perch. "I don't mind taking over."

"You sure?"

"It's only, like, five minutes, Dean." She pushed him, trying to get him out of the chair. "I really don't mind."

"If you're sure," Dean responded, standing and handing off black strap around him like a sash, the end connected to a red float-tube.

Dean hopped off of the stand, foregoing the steps, landing in a pile of sand. The woman laughed, looking down over the edge at him. "Be safe alright? I don't think you'll see anything out there, but still… Just… be safe."

Dean nodded up at her, sending her a salute before putting on his sandals, which had slid off his feet in the pile of sand, and moved on.

It was about a quarter mile to the sand-and-reed barrier that formed a sort of fence around the private area of the beach. Dean always loved walking over here because it reminded him of back home, when his father would take him and his brother out to the coast of Maine, and the reeds and grass nestled in the sand between flat stones fit perfectly with all of the lighthouses always donning the beaches they visited. This small section of beach sent him back to a time where he never had to worry, and he loved it.

But he was not in a loving mood now.

Quickly ducking behind a patch of reeds, Dean watched as two men dragged a third shirtless one along the beach, their arms looped under his armpits, the middle man thrashing and yelling, though his shouts were muffled by what looked like a light grey t-shirt shoved uncomfortably in to his mouth. Just the thought of something that large shoved in to his mouth made Dean want to throw up, but he pushed the though aside as the man continued to struggle, shoulders smashing from side to side, his feet only coming up from the deep lines they were digging in the sand when he kicked hard to give himself more power in trying to escape.

It never worked.

Dean was unsure on what to do, and after a quick pat of his pocket for his cellphone, which was gone, he was at even more of a loss. The man was still struggling, and the other two had managed to bring him to the water.

That's when they switched. One of the men moved behind The Struggler, barring his arms between his own while the other stepped forward, kicking the man in the stomach before punching his face. The man let out a scream that Dean could hear clearly, even though he was muffled, and after another few kicks and punches, it became apparent what they were going to do to him.

Dean felt the bile roll up in his stomach.

He could only launch himself into acton once they began pushing The Struggler under the shallow water, sandy marshes pooling up around his body as he struggled against their strength. They pulled him up for a moment, his hair pressed flat to his face and neck. He took a gasping breath, barely able to close his mouth by the time they were forcing him back under.

With the largest stone he could find clutched in his hands, Dean was running forward, sneaking up to them the best he could. He was lucky that when he closed up on them, they were distracted, the one holding The Struggler under, the other kicking him in his stomach, trying to get him to let out the air in his body.

Dean smacked the one holding The Struggler under. In the head. With his rock.

The man yelped and let go of the one underwater, turning on Dean. Dean had hit him hard enough to break the skin, a thin line of blood coming from his hair, dripping down his neck proving just how much damage he'd done.

The man growled and lunged at Dean, and Dean swung at him with the rock again. The man knocked him in to the water, but the rock had left another significant blow. When Dean popped his head back out of the water, he saw The Struggler running away, back to where he had been dragged from.

_Fuck_.

The man Dean had attacked was recovering from the second blow, and Dean figured it was as good a time as ever to throw his rock, hitting them man square in the temple, hard enough to send him flying back. Dean watched at the man fell, and he looked back to where The Struggler had run off to. No sign of him anywhere, aside from his original foot trenches, and his fresh new footprints leading off into the reeds.

Dean pushed himself up to his feet in the slightly-below knee-deep water, and began to run. The man he had attacked initially was face-up in the water though not moving, but the man The Struggler had been left with was just returning from halfway up the beach, clearly giving up on chasing The Struggler any farther than he already had.

He had his sights set on Dean.

Dean began to run, his sand-slick feet causing him to slide with every step, the loose sand now a detriment to him, his wet feet sinking in to the sand making his running time slower, while the other moved easily across the dunes. It had become slightly easier when Dean shucked his sandals off, but even then, it did nothing to distance himself from the man chasing him, who tackled him down to the ground in a plume of sand that flew up and coated the sides of their bodies and the back of the man pinning Dean to the ground.

Dean let out an anguished groan as the man on top of him rolled off, flipping Dean from his stomach to his back. He hopped back on top of him, straddling his hips, feet hooking in a way around Dean's legs to prevent him from kicking too much. The man leaned forward, pressing his thumbs to Dean's throat as he pressed down hard, closing Dean's airway.

Dean began to struggle, shoulders shimmying, arms thrashing, and legs kicking to the best of their ability despite the fact that it did nothing of use to deter the man, who just continued to press on his throat.

"Don't. Kill. Me," Dean gasped out in a final plead, knowing it was pretty much useless.

"Loose lips sink ships."

Dean sucking in whatever meager breath he could manage. The man just pressed down harder. "I don't. Know. Anything. I'll. Be qui- et."

"Better to tie up loose ends."

Dean could feel his last breath being dragged away from him, his lungs screaming for air, but every gasp he attempted didn't bring anything in, only let it out. No amount of breath and strength training could have prepared him for this. His head began pounding, and he closed his eyes briefly, hoping to calm it.

Nothing happened.

Something was shifting to his side, but he refused to open his eyes until he felt his last moment coming up. He knew he'd black out before he died, and he wanted to see the world one last time.

He was not expecting what he saw.

When his eyes broke open, a large bang echoed around the beach, ringing in his ears for a moment, though he couldn't tell if it was from the shot, or the lack of oxygen in his brain, but then the man atop him loosened his hold, and blood spilled down the side of his head, curling around his ear in a loop, a wobbly line racing down his neck. He fell over and off of Dean's hips, and Dean rolled away, laying on his back, staring at the sun through squinted eyes as he tried to gulp down deep breaths, his lungs protesting to every movement.

His body was screaming but he continued to gasp in breaths, only stopping when a body was dropping down on to his hips. He let out a breathy shout. "No, god," he sobbed, his eyes squinted hard. "Just let me go. Don't kill me."

"I'm not killing you," the voice said, and it was gravelly and deep, but more gentle than the other man's. "Yet."

Dean blinked his eyes open. The Struggler was above him, bright and startling blue eyes piercing in to him, his half-wet hair pointing in every direction. The man's jaw was hard and well defined, and he was holding a gun steadily at Dean's head.

Dean's eyes went wide. "I thought you weren't going to kill me!?"

"Yet." Dean squeezed his eyes shut and the man continued. "Why did you come out here?"

Dean coughed. "Shouldn't you be grateful I did?"

Struggler cocked the gun. "Why did you come out here?"

"Oh god," Dean whined, squeezing his eyes tighter for a moment before cracking one open. "I heard someone, I'm assuming you, was taken from their car in this area. I just wanted to make sure something wasn't happening out here."

Then man stared down at him, never blinking, seemingly lost in thought. "What family are you from?"

"I-what?"

The man shoved his gun against Dean's head. "What family are you from?"

"Oh- god! Jesus christ!" Dean gasped. "Uhhh, Winchester, I guess. Winchester."

"Never heard of you."

"Yeah, well, we're not exactly a crime family."

A hand was shoved against Dean's neck, causing his eyes to fly open even though it wasn't cutting off his air flow. "And who said that my family is in the crimes?"

"Well, you kinda have a loaded gun pointed at my head right now…"

Struggler seemed to contemplate that, and removed the gun from Dean's skull, sliding his hand back from his neck. He finally blinked. "Where's the other man?"

"What other man?" Dean asked, slamming his head back into the sand, relaxing his neck.

"The other man! Other man! You know, one trying to kill me?"

"He should still be in the water."

The man got up, and Dean watched him walk away. He was young, maybe only a year or two off from Dean. Two older, Dean recalled, should he be the Novak's son. He waded through the water, walking slowly up and down the narrow stretch of beach in his already soaked shoes.

He looked like a punk, Dean though to himself. Dark, mused hair, slightly big t-shirt, dark jeans that fit him nicely, canvas shoes, and a previously empty thigh holster, one that probably held the gun he had in his hands. His golden rings were the only thing that gave him away, making the twenty-something look more menacing, if that were possible. His piercing eyes and strict face did the job for him.

The man let out an aggravated shout, shooting down at something in the water before he stalked over to Dean, who had sat up, resting back on his hands.

"Get up," he said, still walking toward Dean, his gun pointed at him. "Get up!" he repeated when Dean sat in the sand, staring up at him. Dean scurried up to his feet, sliding in the sand, kicking plumes of it in to the air as he got up. He held up his hands as the gun was cocked once again, walking backwards and away from the man. "Why you let him go? Huh? Why?"

Dean shook his head. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Kill him."

"With what? My bare hands!?"

"Whatever it takes. _Always _kill enemy."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "And how do you know what side I'm on? I mean, who said he's my enemy? What if _you _are?" Dean crossed his arms with a satisfied smirk.

The man pointed his gun at him with a roll of his eyes.

"You're not my enemy."

"Good," the man replied, dropping his gun as he began to walk down the beach and away from civilization. "Come on."

Dean remained where he stood. "What?"

"Come on," the man said a bit louder as he continued to walk. "Come with."

"No."

Struggler stopped, turning, pointing his gun at him again.

"Oh come on!" Dean whined, following after the man against his will. "You know, you can't just point your gun at me to get me to do whatever you want."

"Yes I can."

Dean groaned. "Can I at least go back and get my sandals?" He looked back over his shoulder at the slowly disappearing public beach, a sense of worry flooding his body. What was happening?

"No."

They walked along the beach until they came to a deserted pier, the only thing on it being a bank of telephone booths at the end of it. The man went to the center one out of the five, calling someone, muttering words in what Dean could only assume was Russian, based on his accent.

He decided he needed to ask about that.

"You Russian or something?" he asked when the man came over, sitting across from him. Dean had his back resting on the fencing put up, his legs splayed out on the ground as he looked at the man through slightly squinted eyes.

"Why you want to know?"

"Your accent-"

"I have no accent."

"-and you kinda leave out words sometimes."

Struggler held up his gun again, and Dean rolled his eyes with a groan. "God! You have _got _to get ahold of that thing, man. You're like the boy who cried wolf, for fuck sake."

"Boy who cried wolf?"

Dean stared at him. "Yeah. You know, like the story?" The man was staring at him with a hint of distrust and confusion so Dean explained. "This guy, a shepherd, or sheep-watcher, was meant to call wolf if a wolf came to eat the sheep. He kept saying wolf for no reason, just as a joke, so the one time a wolf actually showed up, he fucked all of the sheep over because nobody believed him when he said there was one there."

"So the wolf ate the sheep?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

The man smirked. "I like the sound of that wolf."

"You completely missed the point of that story."

"No," the man said. "The wolf smart, and cunning. He waited for perfect chance to take sheep. He knew the boy had been lying about him coming, so when he show up, there wasn't a damn thing boy could do, and so wolf got sheep, and got away free wolf. Wolf _very_ smart."

"Never thought of it that way," Dean said, leaning forward a bit.

"Because you not _very_ smart. You boy. Or in this case, sheep. I am wolf."

"Because you tricked me, or because you stole me away, and probably won't be caught for it?"

"Because I'm smarter than you." The man laughed a deep and round laugh, eyes crinkling at the edge. "I like you, Winchester."

"What'd I say?"

Struggler laughed again, and looked out at the sea. He stared long and hard, and Dean eventually turned to look out at the water as well.

A boat was making its way quickly across the large and choppy waves, and when it got closer, the man stood up, grabbing on to Dean's shoulder as he climbed over the edge of the fencing, his feet barely balancing on the small ledge on the outside. He looked at Dean. "Join me."

Dean did, his knees weak and wobbly as he tried to balance himself. They weren't extremely high, but the boat was coming toward them, barely slowing down, and a sick feeling rolled in to Dean's stomach. "Are we jumping?"

"In to boat, yes."

"What!?" Dean asked, eyes comically wide as he turned to the man who was calm and balancing just fine, one arm holding on to the railing, the other out to steady Dean.

"Yes. I tell you when to jump."

"Wait, what? How do you know it's safe?"

"It's not."

Dean stared at the man, lips parted open in shock at what he'd have to do. "I'm not jumping."

"Yes you are."

"No."

"I need my gun?"

"No."

"Then you jump."

The boat was coming closer, and Dean's heart was racing.

"I'm not jumping."

"Yes you are."

"No!"

"Yes."

"No-"

"Jump!"

The boat was nearly under them, and Dean didn't have a choice to stay behind anymore as Struggler had pulled him forward as he jumped. Dean yelled as he was airborne, but the man still remained calm. It was a short fall, but it felt like a year to Dean, time moving in slow motion as the uncertainty of what they'd just done washed over him, and he only snapped out of his daze when his feet hit the solid base of the boat, a shock rolling up from his soles through his knees, ending at his hips.

The man next to him reached out, grabbing his arm as Dean began to fall forward, pulling him back upright and down into one of the seats. Struggler sat down from him. "See? Not so bad."

"Not so bad? Not so bad!? That was terrifying!"

"But fun, right?" Struggler laughed. He reached back into the built in cooler, cheering quietly as he pulled out two bears. He broke the tops off of both bottle, offering one to Dean.

"Oh, no. I'm too young."

"Me too," the man said, taking a swig of his drink.

Dean hesitated, but Struggler waved the bottle, and soon he was reaching forward to take it. He was cautious as he drank from it, but he found the sweet taste to be just fine, and he was able to take normal gulps from it in a matter of minutes.

The man offered him another bottle, and Dean took it, finishing it about the time the pulled up to a dock. Struggler and Dean stood, the only difference being that the driver of the boat now had his hand on Dean's wrists, pulling them together behind his back as he snapped a pair of handcuffs on him, pushing him forward.

"Hey!" Dean yelped, unhappy with how he was being treated, and even more confused at the same thing. "What's this about?"

"Precautions," Struggler said, and the boat driver pushed him out of the boat and on to the dock. The man walked slightly ahead of him, guiding him up the shallow path to the secluded building they'd landed in front of.

"Where are we?" Dean asked as they walked in to the building, large doorways looming overhead, passing slowly as they walked through them, emerging in a large foyer, reminiscent of nothing the outside looked like.

The room was bathed in a round bronze light, burgundy flooring matching the light colored stone the walls were. A large chandelier hung int he center of it all, and it looked as though just one arm of the enormous light could hold Dean easily. There was a wide stairway that led up to what looked like another room similar to the one they were in now, but they passed it up, going in to yet another room, taking the slimmer staircase in there.

The boat driver had fallen behind the two of them, and Struggler led the way. The landing they hit led into a hallway with three doors, two of them leading to side-rooms connected to the main one right in front of them.

"Where are we?" Dean asked again.

"My home," Struggler said, pushing in to the main room.

A man was sitting at a large, burgundy colored desk that matched the floor filling the room. It sat on top of a rug that matched the walls, which were still made of the stone from downstairs, though darker and more brown than before. The man sat in a chair with a wide back, a phone pressed to his ear.

Angry sounding strains of what Dean once again assumed to be Russian flowed from his lips. The man was a bit pudgy, but Dean didn't realize how tall he was until the man caught sight of Struggler and slammed the phone down, pushing himself up and away from his desk.

"Castiel! My son." The man walked up to Struggler, now Castiel in Dean's mind, and hugged him close. Castiel wrapped his arms around him in return, and they shared a tight embrace while Dean stood off to the side and behind them, not saying a word.

The man broke the hug with his son, looking over his shoulder at Dean. He narrowed his eyes. "Who is he? Why is he cuffed? Was he the one who took you?" The man had broken from his son, walking over to Dean, pulling out and cocking his gun, aiming at Dean.

"That's where he gets it from," Dean whispered under his breath.

"What?" the man asked, pressing his gun to Dean's head. Dean squeezed his eyes shut.

"No! Dad! No!" Castiel said, placing a hand on his fathers chest as he pushed him away from Dean. "He's the one who saved me, Father. I'd be dead without him."

The man looked to his son, then back to Dean, switching between the both of them a few times before pointing his gun at Dean again. "That true? You save my boy?"

Dean nodded weakly and the man immediately dropped his gun, stepping forward to clap Dean on the shoulder, pulling him in for a brief hug he couldn't reciprocate.

"You did good," he said, stepping away from Dean and back to Castiel, pulling him close, kissing him hard on the temple. "Thank you for saving my son."

Dean nodded, but Castiel looked up at his dad. "Father, please protect him."

Dean looked surprised, and the man looked down at his son. "Protect him?"

"Not only am I in debt to him, but he saved my life. One of men who took me got away, and I'm afraid they'll come after him."

"You wish for me to grant him protection?"

"As if he were part of the family."

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Castiel, that is a lot to ask."

"Perhaps he can do something to earn it, but not too much. Father, he saved me."

The man looked Dean over, still holding his son in a side-hug. Dean felt a whip of jealousy course through him. He wished he was that close to his own father. The man was looking down at Dean's shorts, the only thing he currently had on, his shirt back at the stand. "What is your profession?" the man asked.

"I'm a lifeguard," Dean responded.

"You guard lives?"

"Yes, sir."

The man nodded. "Very well. You continue to do so, with my son."

Dean cocked his head in confusion, and Castiel looked up at his father. "What?"

The man grinned and clapped his son lightly on the shoulder as he walked over to Dean, doing the same to him. "He works for you, now. Meet your new guard."

Castiel stared dumbfounded at his father, and Dean was prepared to laugh, unaware that he could make a face other than 'solemn death-stare' for longer than a few seconds, but he was too far gone to laugh, completely lost in the fact that he'd just essentially been kidnapped, only to become some Russian crime lord's son's bodyguard.

"I don't remember agreeing to this," Dean said, twisting his wrists around as the boat driver was called back in with a key for his handcuffs and a shirt for Dean to wear. It was too big on him, but he didn't mind having something to put on.

"It only way for me to offer full protection," the man said.

"By putting me in the line of fire to protect your son?" Castiel was sitting in his father's chair, spinning around in it slowly.

"Only when needed. Castiel will not leave often. I don't want him taken again."

Castiel stilled in his chair. "I did not agree to this."

"You did when you asked to protect your savior."

"Maybe I don't want protection," Dean said, sitting down on one of the available chairs lining the wall behind him

"So you want death?"

Dean stilled, as did Castiel, who was prepping to spin himself again in the chair. Dean didn't speak until Castiel was spinning once more. "Why would I die?"

"Because they will be after you," the man explained. "You saved their enemy, the one they were sent to kill. You're a pawn in they're way. They will take you down, whether they need to or not anymore."

"So," Dean started, trying to simplify it. "I'm either your son's bodyguard, or I die?"

"Essentially," the man agreed.

"I…" Dean shook his head. How he had gotten roped into this whole this was lost to him, and his mind was swirling, just wanting this day to be over so that he could go home, wake up, and pretend as if it had never happened. He knew, though, somewhere in his mind, that this was all real, and that it wouldn't be going away any time soon, and that he'd have to live up to the fact that his life had just been flipped upside down, and he had no way to get out. "I don't even know how to fight somebody, let alone protect them," he said as a last-ditch effort.

"Don't worry about that," the man said, walking to and stilling Castiel in his chair. Castiel unfurled himself from in it and stood up, allowing his father to sit. "We will send you through training. For now, follow Castiel to your new room."

"My what?" Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no no. Dean was _not _staying here. He was going home, back to his father and brother, back to the life he'd always known.

"Your new bedroom," he explained, giving Castiel a light pat on the back, sending him on his way. "You'll be staying with us."

Dean stared at the man, unable to move due to shock, so Castiel came over to him, grabbing his wrist, tugging him out of the office and down the narrow stairway. He let go of his wrist once he knew Dean would follow.

He led him back out into the main room and up the wide, sweeping staircase. He wlked through a path of halls, halfway down the first hallway before turning right, all the way to the end of the second hallway, then up another sweeping staircase, though not quite as defined as before.

There was a narrow hallway at the top with two doors leading to separate rooms. Castiel stopped in front of them. He pointed to the one on the right. "It's yours."

Dean nodded to him, thanking him before stepping in to his room. It was large. About twice as big as the one he had back home, complete with a bathroom and walk-in closet that had nothing in it. Dean looked around in awe, momentarily forgetting that it wasn't home, and that it never would be, and that this was all just temporary, until they could agree that the whole ordeal had blown over, and protection wasn't necessary anymore.

For the time being, however, he was trapped. Castiel came in behind him, starling him as he brushed right passed him and to his closet. Dean followed him in, only to see him setting down a pair of boots, a t-shirt, and some sweats. Dean cleared his throat, and Castiel stood up, snapping his attention to him.

Dean gestured down at the pile of belongings, and Castiel explained. "I guessed you need some clothes. Boots are just a bit big on me, so they should fit you, and the others…" Castiel shrugged, refusing to meet Dean's eye.

Dean brought it up. "Why won't you look at me?"

"Because I'm sorry I have you trapped without anything. That wasn't my plan."

"It's okay," Dean said. "I'll get used to it. It's only temporary, right?"

Castiel shook his head no, but agreed with Dean verbally. "Right." Castiel rubbed at his neck for a moment before brushing passed Dean on his way out. "I'm to shower. Enjoy your new room." He was halfway out the door when he stopped, looking back at Dean. "And thank you. For saving me."

Dean shook his head. "No problem."

Castiel stared at Dean while longer before whipping around, heading across the hall and into his room, leaving Dean alone to do with himself what he pleased in his new and open room. He decided to curl up on his bed, closing his eyes. He wanted to take a short nap, exhausted from the day thus far, but his mind wouldn't stop racing, filling with thoughts of how'd he'd probably never be able to leave, and the only way out was to die, be it at the hands of once again saving Castiel's life, or trying to get away from doing just that.

He was trapped. He felt as though he was suffocating, much like he had been earlier that day, but there would be no end to this, as far as he could tell. No bright light before the dark of death.

Just hell.

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**If you couldn't tell from reading, this story is going to be violent. Be prepared for anything pertaining to that and crime life, including substance abuse, physical abuse, and possibly even character death. I don't have this all planned out, so those are just a warning.**

**Updates will be sporadic, so feel free to ask me any questions you have on here via comments, or on my tumblr, **_squidstiel_

**As this is a new story, please let me know what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Russian words are spelled out phonetically for your convenience using google translate and the small amount of the language I know myself. If it's too confusing, let me know.**

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Dean was woken up by a smack to the face.

"What the fuck!?" he shouted, springing up in bed. He'd fallen asleep for only an hour, a quick nap by his standards, when Castiel had awoken him.

"You needed to wake up."

"Couldn't have done it a different way?" he asked, rubbing his cheek, the sting of the slap fading away.

"Niet," he responded, walking back out of Dean's room. "Training downstairs. Be there."

Dean sat up with a groan. He counted himself lucky the bed was comfortable, but that was all he was grateful for at the moment. He gave himself some time to reemerge from his drowsy state, and only managed to lose his way once on the way down from his room, the straight hallways no help to him when they all looked the same from a visitors standpoint, the house looking more and more like and office building the more Dean explored it. He finally found the main walkway, and stumbled down the sweeping staircase and into the foyer, standing and waiting for someone to come get him, as he had no idea where, exactly, he was supposed to go.

Castiel came out of a side hallway after a while, crossing his arms as he glared at Dean. He had a new t-shirt on and some loose black pants, as well as a large, still-darkening bruise across his right cheek from earlier. Dean didn't want to know what his stomach looked like. "You're late."

"I don't even know where I am," Dean explained with a sigh, voice defeated as he tossed his hands into the air, smacking them down against his thighs.

"Follow me." Castiel said flatly, spinning on his toes, bare feet smacking against the wooden floor as he took a turn halfway through the foyer and through a door. He look a left, hopping down a few steps into what Dean could only describe as a dojo. The pale wooden floors were contrasting to the grey walls, but the matching grey mats on top of the wood tied it all together. The lights were bright, and Dean could see that passed one of the walls was another room. A large mirror reflected back a sliver of light, and Dean assumed it was a rehearsal space for dancing.

Castiel let out a rip of a yell, gaining Dean's attention as he jumped in to the air after taking a few timed steps, spinning his body with his leg out, kicking one of the two punching bags over the built-in grey mats, sending it swinging as he landed. He grabbed the bag as it swung by him, stilling it and punching it repeatedly with his free hand. He stopped after a minute, his breathing hard, his face tinted red.

"How am I supposed to protect you if you could kick my ass?"

"I'm supposed to kick ass," Castiel explained, spin kicking the bag again. "Especially yours. You supposed to kick _other _people's ass. I'm supposed to stay away from them."

Dean sighed. "Well, are you gonna teach me, or what?"

Castiel stilled his swinging bag, looking over at Dean. He raised an eyebrow. "Me? Teach _you_?" He laughed, tilting his head back, letting out the deep, round, and joyous sound he had the day before. Dean would find it endearing if he wasn't so offended.

"What's so wrong with that?"

"You suck. Like you say, I could kick your ass, and I'm _student_. That not good for learning. You need _teacher_ who can kick your ass."

"So why am I down here?"

"Mychalla."

"What?"

"No. Who." Dean cocked his head and Castiel explained farther. "He teach me. Now he teach you. Warm up, Winchester."

Dean dropped down to the ground without a question, beginning to stretch himself out. Castiel watched with a slight smirk of a grin on his face, continually irritating Dean until he snapped. "What the fuck is that goddamn grin about?"

"That you call warm up?"

Dean stared at him, stretching himself forward, grabbing his toes, trying to decipher exactly what Castiel had said. It took him a moment. "Uhhh, yeah. What, is this not warming up to you?"

"No. It's stretching."

"Yeah, exactly. Warming up."

Castiel just laughed and went back to his bag, leaving Dean to continue stretching with a permanent scowl on his face. Who the fuck did Castiel think he was? Well, other than a crime lord's son.

Dean growled quietly to himself when he felt he was done stretching, pushing himself to his feet. He swung his arm up over his head, bending it at the elbow, pushing down on it with his free hand. "So," he asked, dropping his arm before doing the same stretch to the other. "When's this Mychalla guy showing up?"

"Right now."

Dean turned around at the deep voice that echoed behind him. A large, tanned man stood right in the entrance, his huge frame intimidating enough without his deep, dark glare and his exorbitant amount of muscle. Dean gulped as the man lumbered in to the room. "You warmed up?"

Castiel laughed behind Dean. "Oh yeah. He's stretched. He's good."

Mychalla joined in the laughter with Castiel, two deep voices bouncing around the room, and Dean growled. "Stop!"

They both silenced themselves. "I'm sorry," Castiel muttered under his breath. "I'll go back to kicking ass."

Dean sent him a look, unsatisfied with Castiel's quick mood change, but he dropped it as he turned to his new instructor. "So, what are we learning?"

"Sambo."

"Samba?" Dean blinked up at him, confusion washing over him.

"Samb_o_. It's Russian," he explained.

"Of course it is."

"Fighting without a weapon. Useful for hand to hand."

"Won't I have a gun?"

Mychalla rolled his eyes, reaching behind him to slip a gun out of his holster. He flipped it in his hand, holding the handle out for Dean to take. "Grab it." Dean did. "Now point it at me." He did. "Attack me."

While Dean was staring at his gun, trying to figure out how, exactly, to attack, Mychalla stepped forward, smacking Dean's gun out of his hand and in an arch to the ground with a clatter, grabbing his wrist, spinning to step behind him. Dean yelped as his arm was bent at an unnatural angle, even more so when his feet were swiped out from under him and he was sent down to his knees before an elbow was dug in to his spine, pressing his chest down to the ground with a thud. Mychalla grabbed Dean's ankle, pulling it up to his wrist, keeping him pinned to the ground.

"Uncle! Uncle!" Dean shouted, pressing his cheek into the grey mat he'd been pushed half on to, kicking his free leg the best he could.

"Wrong word."

"Stop!"

"Say in Russian."

"I don't speak Russian!" Dean shouted, voice squeaking as he struggled under the much larger man.

"Time to learn."

"What!?"

"Say budet, or ostanovit," Castiel interjected with a grin, a hand on his punching bag, leaning slightly as he watched the whole situation unfold before him.

"Budet!" Dean shouted. "Ostanovit! Ostanovit!"

Mychalla let go and sat up on his knees, pushing himself to his feet. "Gun useless," he said, brushing his hands together.

Dean snapped his arm off of his back and to the floor with a light thud, stretching it the most he could without moving it. He rolled on to his back, and Castiel stepped over him, a foot on each side of his legs. He held out his hand.

Dean was cautious, but he reached up, grabbing Castiel's hand. He pulled him up in one swift tug, and Dean was impressed with his strength, though he really shouldn't have been. He'd seen how strong Castiel was just minutes before.

Dean brushed his legs with his hands, turning to look at Mychalla. "So, what? Am I not allowed to shoot my gun at you?"

"I'd make you shoot yourself."

Dean gulped at Mychalla's face, no emotions wavering on it, his expression as serious as ever.

"Stop scaring him," Castiel said as he turned back to his bag. He took a few steps back from it, charging and jumping on to it. Dean watched in awe as his legs wrapped around it, holding him up as he dropped his arms, pulling the bag down to the ground, his hands slamming on the ground with a solid smack. He used his handstand as leverage as he bent at his hips, pushing up on his hands in order to flip the bag beneath him and pin it to the ground as he landed on top.

"Woah," Dean was finally able to mutter once Castiel had hopped off the bag and to his feet, walking to and pressing a button on the side of the wall to pull the bag back up.

"I taught him that," Mychalla said, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

"Can you teach me?"

Castiel and Mychalla laughed again, the joyous round echoing around the room. Dean felt offended again. "What?"

"It take time," Castiel explained, going back to attacking his punching bag without another word.

"Let's get to learning, then," Dean said, and Mychalla grinned.

Dean wasn't pinned to the floor again, not quite ready to deal with that again, though he was taken down a few times. Mychalla decided to start Dean off on disarming his attacker, but when the knife was pulled out, Dean called it quits.

"I don't want to die!"

"I won't kill you."

"Yeah, only seriously maim me."

Take downs were what Mychalla when with next. Castiel stopped his attacks on his punching bag every time Dean was knocked to the ground, but he wasn't doing awful. Sweeps, tackles, and spins were what he learned, and Dean hopped up and cheered loudly when he finally god Mychalla down on the ground, though was tripped moments later by the man sweeping his leg out along the floor, kicking Dean's feet out from underneath him.

He landed on the ground with a thud and a groan, squeezing his eyes shut from the impact. When he opened them again, a long, slender hand was in front of him, pale pink polish covering perfectly manicured nails. Dean looked up.

Above him stood Alona Novak, the blonde bombshell of a daughter, and the eldest of the five girls in their family, excluding their mother. She had on a tank top in a shade similar to the one on her nails, he long locks pressed into loose curls rolling down her back. She had curved bangs in front of her face, and lipstick to match the rest of her outfit. She waved her hand and Dean grabbed it, allowing her to help him up.

She dropped Dean's hand as soon as he was on his feet, and before he could even blink, she had turned and pulled her brother in to a hug, squeezing him tighter than even his father had earlier. "Oh, Castiel!" she said excitedly. "I was worried! Baby brother gone!? In danger! I could not stand it!"

"I'm okay now," Castiel muttered in return, patting her back lightly. Dean laughed at how helpless he was against the blonde woman.

"Good. Now, little boy like you need food."

"Alona, I'm practicing."

"No longer. Father wants you at dinner. And your new guard." She finalized before she turned to Mychalla. "You may come as well." She whirled back around to her brother, grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the dojo without another word. Dean noticed, as they were walking away, that she was taller than her brother, though her pale pink heels could have been the result of that.

She dragged Castiel off, her hair bouncing in waves as her thin-heeled shoes clacked on the wooden floor with each step they took. Castiel was fighting her every move, trying to plant his feet on the ground, but she was strong, the muscles in her bicep flexing out as she pulled her brother along, his bare feet squelching across the clean floor as he struggled.

Dean laughed softly once they were gone. "Are they always like that? Their family, I mean?"

"Only her. She always gone, but love her family very much. She a model, that why she blonde."

"A disguise?"

"Of sorts. Everyone know she Novak, though. Disguise not necessary."

Dean nodded and began to follow after the pair, hoping not to lose them, as he had no idea where the dining room was. Mychalla had declined to come along, stating that he wanted to return to his family back in their home a short drive down the beach. Dean nodded and proceeded without him, making his way back to the foyer.

There were smeared footprints on the previously spotless floor leading in to yet another hallway diverging from the foyer. Dean decided that was his best bet, and he was right, coming across a large opening to a dining room.

There was a large mahogany table in the center of the room, matching chairs all around it. There was a chandelier hanging above the table, exactly the same as the one in the foyer, but scaled down to what Dean considered to be an appropriate size. It was giving off a deep, warm light, and Dean thought to himself that the entire house was lit up by special bulbs, always creating the homely feel, despite how open and cold the home could seem. The size of just the table alone was astounding, and Dean couldn't help but wonder how big, exactly, the house and the Novak family fortune was.

Castiel gestured Dean over to the side of the table they were on, a chalice of sorts placed between his fingers, a similar one in Alona's, her free arm wrapped around Castiel's shoulders.

"My baby brother is okay!" she cheered as Dean sat down, sliding him a glass before drinking a large amount of whatever liquid was in hers. Castiel followed suit, but all Dean could do was stare in to the glass. He swirled whatever was in it around, sniffing it.

"What is this?"

"Vodka," Alona replied.

"That's not perpetuating Russian stereotypes at all," Dean muttered, pulling his glass up for a small sip. It was strong and bitter, and stung his throat as it went down, but he wouldn't let it show how hard it was for him to drink it while the other two were downing gulps of it like it was water while the wait staff placed platters and bowls of food on the table around them.

They stopped when their father entered the room, sitting himself down at the head of the table. Alona stood immediately and walked around the table to the other side of him, bending and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Viktor turned and hugged her, earning a small giggle from her. "Daddy! Baby brother is okay!"

"I know," he responded. Dean hadn't realized how truly deep his voice was until it was matched against Alona's soft and high one. "I was very worried. This man saved him."

"You saved my brother?" she asked, turning to Dean, expression and voice eerily reminiscent of her father earlier that day. Dean nodded weakly and her face brightened, her lips quirking up as she walked quickly over to Dean, hugging him as well. His eyes grew wide, and Castiel and his father laughed, the only difference between the two of them being the pitch of their voices. Dean felt yet another spark of jealousy, but the blonde hair brushing against his neck snapped him out of it.

Alona gave him another squeeze before moving back around the table to sit beside her father, allowing Castiel to slide down a chair, sitting closer to his father as well. He patted the seat beside him, staring at Dean until he moved over, settling in beside Castiel.

A few others joined them, but Dean didn't have a clue who any of them were. None of them were girls, so they certainly weren't the Novak children. Workers, or others who shared the home, Dean assumed.

The platters the wait staff had brought out were piled high with meats and breads, and the bowls were filled with different soups. Dean wasn't sure of the customary way to eat what was placed out, so he watched Castiel and his father fill their plates, doing the same to his own.

The meat was apparently supposed to be dipped into the reddish soup Dean had poured in to his bowl, and he could see why. He attempted to eat it plain, but it was too dry and stuck to the roof of his mouth and throat when he tried to swallow it down. He had to wash it down with the bitter vodka in his cup, making his throat sting.

He made a mental note to not eat the meat dry again.

The wait staff brought out desert next, and Dean was thrilled to see it was a bowl of plain chocolate ice cream, which he downed easily.

"What family are you of?" Alona asked once they were all done eating, letting their stomachs rest as they conversed.

"Uhhh, Winchester?" Dean said, unsure of what to say after gaining the response he did from Castiel earlier.

"I've never heard of them," Alona replied, taking a sip of her drink, but her father seemed to light up.

"You John Winchester's boy?"

Dean knitted his eyebrows together. "How do you know my father."

"Business partner back in the day. Supplied me alcohol," he laughed.

"Sounds like my dad."

Viktor laughed again. "Very good brewster, very shitty father."

"Couldn't disagree with that," Dean replied, pulling his glass up for a sip. The bitter burn of the alcohol was dulling, and it was easier for him to drink. He took another gulp before setting it down, leaning back in his chair.

Viktor followed suit. "I assume you not able to say goodbye to family?"

Dean shook his head. "My dad won't care. It's Sam I'm worried about."

Viktor nodded once. "So you must be Dean."

"Yes sir."

"Your name is Dean?" Castiel asked, turning to look at him properly, though he was disregarded as Viktor continued.

"Tell you what. Castiel gets new cell phone tomorrow. Use his to call them in morning."

"Really?"

"Yes. My son will show you how to use it."

"I know how to use a cell phone."

"Not this one," Castiel said, butting in. He pushed himself away from the table and stood, his chair sliding across the floor with a low scratch and squeak. "I've had long day, as you know. I'll be going to bed now."

Alona was the first up to hug him goodnight, kissing him on the cheek, his father following shortly after, collecting him in his arms, pressing him close. Castiel's thin and toned frame looked minuscule next to his father's large and bulky one. Dean still couldn't get over how tall he was.

"Is good to have you back, son. So glad you are safe." He kissed his temple.

"Good to be back," Castiel replied, pulling away from his father's strong hold. "Dean," he said. Dean snapped his head up, his gaze falling on Castiel. "Please to be joining me?"

"Uhhh, sure," Dean responded cautiously. He pushed himself out from the table, his chair squeaking across the floor much like Castiel's. He walked around to the other man, getting stopped twice, once by Viktor to receive a clap on the shoulder, and once from Alona as she hopped up to kiss his cheek. She was taller than him, even more so in her heels, which made him uncomfortable, but she was nice, and smelled like flowers, and Dean couldn't help but to mention that to Castiel once they were out of the dining room and in the main foyer.

"You're sister's really tall."

"That why Alona want to be model."

"And she smells like flowers?"

Castiel was leading the way, his still-bare feet smacking across the wooden floor. He looked back over his shoulder as he grabbed on to the stair-railing, using it to change his direction, hopping up the stairs. "You like my sister?"

"Well, she's nice."

"No, I mean, _like_ like."

"Do I have a crush on your sister?" Dean asked in disbelief with a huff of a laugh, mildly out of breath once they reached the top of the stairs. He looked down at his body, mentally making a note to work out more.

"Yes."

"What? No. I mean, she's beautiful," Dean added, receiving a menacing glare from Castiel as they rounded a corner. "don't get me wrong. But, uhh… Not my cup of tea."

"Not like blondes?"

"Or women."

Castiel stopped a few steps up the second flight of stairs, looking down at Dean, his eyebrows arched high. "You gay?"

Subtle. Dean crossed his arms, leaning against the wall at the base of the steps. "Well, I mean, yeah," he said, voice a little above a mutter, flipping his wrist as he tried to explain. "But it's a new thing. It's not like I don't find women attractive-"

"-You just rather fuck guys?"

Dean swallowed, looking up at Castiel, dropping his wrist and arm down to hang by his body. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Castiel looked vaguely surprised, but did nothing more than tug the corner of his lips down while pulling the center up along with his eyebrows, cocking his head briefly, making what Dean considered to be a 'not bad' face, despite that the name didn't fit the situation.

Slapping feet pulled Dean's attention, and he noticed Castiel had left him behind as he walked up the stairs. He was halfway up by the time Dean decided to follow after him, skipping up the steps. He caught him at the top. "So, what? You're straight?"

"No."

Dean's eyebrows flew up, his eyes widening. "You're gay?"

"No."

They'd reached the end of their journey, both stopping in front of their doors. Dean leaned against the frame of his, Castiel copying him, one arm up, his elbow above his head to support him. The sleeve of his t-shirt slid up his arm, and there was a fine purple line down the inside of his bicep, outlining the muscles nicely. Dean would be sure to ask him about that later.

"So what are you then?"

"Anything I can stick my dick in to." Dean's eyes went wide, his eyebrows shooting up, and Castiel laughed, the deep and robust sound echoing through the small hallway. Dean was growing used to hearing it, and wondered why more people didn't laugh in the way the Novaks did. "I kidding. Everybody hot, though, so I not lying too much."

Dean grinned. "Everybody's hot? Does that mean I'm hot?"

"Depends," Castiel replied, lowering his arm down to rest his shoulder on the frame instead. "Am I hot?"

Dean's eyes roamed over Castiel's body. He _was _nice looking, a toned body with incredible muscles, and a great ass. Dean shrugged, roving his eyes back up, focusing on the deep bruise across most of his right cheek. Dean shrugged again, changing the subject. "Why did you bring me up here?"

"Thought you needed to get away from family. They need catch up anyway. Plus, you my bodyguard now. Though not much of one. You smaller than me."

"I'll be able to kick your ass someday."

"We see," Castiel finalized, shoving himself off of his frame, opening his door in the process. He stepped back in to his room, but Dean called for him to stop. He looked up, waiting for Dean to continue.

"Uhh, I didn't say it earlier. But thanks."

"For what?"

"For saving me. That guy was choking me out. I would have died without you there." Dean huffed out a laugh, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, still leaning against the solid door frame. "So, I guess that makes us even, huh?"

Castiel shook his head, eyes crinkling at the edges as he grinned. "Not quite. You not be in risk if you not save me. I still owe you one."

Dean nodded in acceptance, not willing to argue with the Russian across from him. "Alright. Well, still. Thanks, man."

"No problem, man."

They were locked in a stare-down for a moment, though not a vicious one, just one in which neither of them were quite sure how to end their conversation. Castiel finished it by closing his door as he stepped back, allowing Dean to open his and step in to his room.

He was unsure about the protocol for sleeping in a home that wasn't yours, let alone the home of anyone he was truly familiar with, but he went on the bias that it was now _his _room and that he should have the liberty to sleep however he damn well pleased in _his _room.

To be safe, he decided on wearing his boxers to bed, but nothing else, leaving his discarded and dirty clothes in a small pile near his closet, unsure of where to put it. There was a two-doored tunnel in one of his walls, one he assumed was a laundry chute, but he didn't dare toss his clothes down it for fear that it would end up landing on some unsuspecting woman, whose only crime was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He collapsed on his bed after washing his face in the shiny bathroom right beside his closet, everything in there pearly white and gold aside from the floor, which was a continuation of the deep brown wooden floor covering most of the house, or what of it Dean had seen. He curled in to the blankets, actually comfortable with the temperature and how cushy the bed was and how his pillows rested underneath his cheek, supporting him nicely.

It was nice to have nice things, even though they weren't his, Dean though to himself as he drifted off to sleep. And for the first time that day, the events of that morning weren't weighing down his thoughts and everything seemed like it would work out fine for him, the darkness of hell that he'd predicted just before wasn't coming true, and the light he hadn't been able to see was back, glowing brighter than ever.

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**Not very action filled, I apologize.**

**I'm thinking of updating this once a week, should I be able to stick to that schedule.**

**I should also add that this is un-betad, and will probably stay that way, so any and all mistakes are on me. If it's anything more than a minor spelling mistake, please let me know!**

**Hope you enjoyed!**


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel woke Dean up in the morning after waiting for hours for him to do it himself. Granted, it wasn't morning when he was woken up, unless 11a.m. is considered morning. To Castiel, it's not, and he was sure to inform Dean of that.

"Wake up," he said, voice loud as he dumped two cups of chilled water on Dean, one on his face, the other on his crotch.

Dean shot up with a yelp for the second time in 24 hours, water dripping from his face and down his chest, causing goosebumps to spring up all over his skin. His eyes were wide along with his pupils as he glared at his bathroom, where Castiel had disappeared, reemerging with two new cups filled to the brim a minute later. He paused just outside of the door, staring at Dean.

Dean's eyes grew hard. "What the hell, man!?"

"You needed to wake up, man," Castiel said, walking over to Dean. He handed one of the cups to him, raking his eyes over his exposed skin and his soaking wet boxers. He cocked his head. "You wear undershorts to bed?"

Dean's glare had faded in to an incredulous stare, lips parted open as he blinked slowly at him. "Undershorts?"

"You know, uhhh… Underwear? Boxers?"

"Boxers," Dean said with a nod, taking a sip of the water from the glass Castiel had handed him. It was cold as it spread through his mouth and down his throat. He shivered a little, pulling up the partially wet blanket, tugging it up to cover himself decently enough to remove the chill. "And yes," he said after taking another gulp of the water. "I sleep in them." Castiel pulled the previously dubbed 'not bad' face despite the name not really fitting the situation, once again. "What's that face for?"

"I assumed you sleep naked."

"Yet you still came in to my room to dump water on me."

"Yeah," Castiel said, downing the last of his water before setting his glass down on Dean's desk. He brushed the back of his hand over his lips, wiping the residue off, and Dean noticed Castiel was shirtless for the first time that morning. He was decently toned, something that Dean admired on his body, but covering a good portion of his abdomen was a deep purple bruise, starting right below the center of his ribs, pressing out on each side. It looked worse than Dean assumed it should have.

He swung his legs out from under the blankets, draping them over the edge of the bed as he stood, setting down his water as he stepped to Castiel. He grabbed his hips, spinning him slowly around to face his back toward the bed, walking him to the edge before laying him down, cradling his head so as to not drop him.

Castiel was staring up at Dean with confusion and mild worry plastered over his face, but he didn't fight Dean, just letting loose a half-assed complaint as his shoulder was laid down on the still-wet and cool bed-sheet. Dean placed himself over Castiel's thighs, earning another complaint about how his pants would get wet, but Dean ignored it as he bent down, getting his face close to his injured skin as he began gently poking and prodding around Castiel's ribs, the ones that had the bruise covering them.

He yelped when Dean poked too hard, and grabbed the hand that was doing the touching. "Dean, stop!"

"Why? I think they broke some of your ribs yesterday. Did you have someone look that over? Jesus, man, that bruise is bad. Like, really bad. Are you sure you don't have broken ribs? I thin-"

Castiel had grabbed on to Dean's biceps, wrapping one of his legs around one of Dean's, rolling their bodies, flipping Dean on to his back, pinning him down by the shoulders, his feet hooked around his calfs to keep him from fighting too much, similar to the man he'd been attacked by the day before. "Dean. Stop."

Dean gaped up at Castiel, eyes wide. "I'm just saying you should really get your ribs checked out."

Castiel rolled his eyes and crawled off of Dean, letting him sit up. "It nothing. Not even hurt that bad."

"But they _do_ hurt."

"Drop it."

"Okay," Dean said, letting Castiel's bruised abdomen fade from the conversation, though it still concerned him. "So why did you wake me up? And why are you shirtless?"

"We need go shopping. And get me new car. And maybe you car. And why put on clothes when not doing anything?"

Dean couldn't argue with that, though he paused mid shrug. "Wait. Get _me _a car?"

"You need drive too."

"Why are you dropping all of your 'to's? And no I don't."

"Well I'm not driving you around. You _my _guard. You drive _me _around. And because I can."

"So if I'm driving you, why do you need a car?"

"Can't always rely on you."

Dean let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes, rubbing his hands over his bare arms. He was still cold. "Whatever. Can you leave so I can change."

"What if I want watch?"

_What the hell?_ "_To _watch. And no."

Castiel rolled his eyes, crawling off of Dean's bed. "See you soon, Winchester." He raked his eyes over Dean's body, biting his lip as he took him in, not feeling at all guilty by his blatant staring, despite that it made Dean slightly uncomfortable, though he made no effort to cover himself.

Dean cleared his throat, and Castiel finally left his room, leaving Dean to do as he pleased. He immediately got up to shut his door. He hadn't _disliked _Castiel's obvious staring, but it was weird. He'd just met the guy, was living with his family and away from his own, and he was _checking him out_? Dean shook his head.

Probably just a Russian thing.

He left to his closet which was depressingly empty, pulling on the only outfit he had in there. Castiel had been right about the boots fitting him, as they did quite nicely, but he couldn't help but to feel guilty, taking these things from him. Sure, they'd been offered, given to him without request, but it didn't make him feel any less guilty. He had his own clothes. He could provide for himself.

Lacing the boots proved to be difficult, not from the wear on the laces, as there was none, but the lack of it, making the cotton stiff and hard to manipulate. Once tied, Dean pushed himself to his feet, turning to leave his closet, only to be met by Castiel, who had changed nothing aside from putting on a shirt, blocking his way. His eyes widened. "How much did you see?"

"You putting on your shirt. Very nice back," he responded, holding out a cell phone. Dean reached out to take it, Castiel dropping his hand as soon as it was empty. "You say you wanted to call family. Do so."

Dean flipped the phone is his hand. "Didn't you say there was a special way to use this?"

"Yes." Castiel walked into the closet, stopping beside Dean. It was too narrow for the both of them to be standing shoulder to shoulder, so Castiel stepped slightly behind him, putting his arm around him and on his shoulder, pressing close instead.

No. Dean was _not _flushing. Not even a little bit.

"So this phone has special code to get in, but also special code to do other things. Code is 36948." Dean tapped it in and the phone unlocked, opening to the home screen.

A few games were on it, and Dean looked back at Castiel. "Temple Run? Angry Birds? _Candy Crush_? Really?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Fun game. Anyway, now to dial, open the dialer." Dean did. "Press seven, three, seven." Dean did. "Okay. That all. Now dial family."

"Why do you have to put in those numbers?" Dean asked as Castiel stepped around him, letting his hand drag down from his shoulder and low across his back, fingers grazing his hip as he made his way to the door.

He paused. "So that if phone stolen, people that not know code can not call or text contacts, and so you can't be traced. Precaution," he concluded, stepping out of the closet. "Call family. Come meet me in my room when done."

Dean nodded, sending a thank you his way as Castiel walked out of his room, closing the door behind him. As soon as he was out, Dean dialed the number, pressing call and holding the phone to his ear, the dull ring echoing loudly in his head. He went to turn down the volume, but stopped when a voice came out. "Hello?"

The voice was small, leading him to know exactly who it was. "Hey, Sammy."

"Dean?" There was a rustling from the other end of the line, as well as a muffled voice. "Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me."

Sam pulled the phone away from his ear, calling back "Yeah, Dad. It's Dean." before returning to the phone. "Hi Dean."

"Hey Sammy."

"Whe-" His voice was cut off, and a deeper one took place. "Dean? Where the hell are you?"

Dean scratched his head, leaning back up against the wall beside the entrance to his closet. "Uhh, obviously not home."

"No shit, Dean. Now where are you? And _why_ aren't you here?"

"I did some stuff, Dad. I saved a life," he added, voice rising with a small sense of pride, but it fell just as fast.

"And why do I care."

"Well, I saved…" Dean didn't know how much he was allowed to say, so he played it safe. "Someone very powerful."

"Why do I care about a drowning victim, Dean?"

"No. Uhh, this… person was being attacked. I saved them, but the person who was attacking them knows who I am. Dad, if I came back home, it'd put all three of us in danger."

"You think I don't know how to use a gun?"

"They're a bit more powerful than that."

"Dean," his dad said, voice still hard. "I don't care. I can handle this family just fine. Get your ass home."

Dean rolled his eyes, done with this argument. "No can do, Dad."

"Dean," he warned.

"Put Sammy on the phone. I want to say goodbye. I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"Try a few hours. You'll get your ass home tonight, or I swear to _god_, Dean…"

"I think the people I'm with are a bit more powerful than you. Put Sam on the phone."

"No."

"Dad."

"No. You'll see him when you come home."

Dean sighed, squeezing his eyes tight as he pressed the fingertips of his free hand to his forehead, kneading lightly. "I'm not coming home. Put him on or I'm hanging up."

There was silence on the other end, then a click followed by dead air. Dean pulled the phone away from his ear, only to see the home screen. He'd been hung up on.

He had to restrict himself from throwing the phone on the ground, not wanting to shatter it as it wasn't his own. Instead, he turned and punched the wall, his knuckles cracking sharply as he did. He pressed his forehead to the wall as he shook out his hand, trying to dissipate the pain. It went away about the same time he calmed himself down enough to not lash out at the next person he'd see, who'd be Castiel.

"You okay?" Castiel asked as Dean walked into his room, tossing his phone on to his bed. Castiel watched it fly through the air and bounce on his mattress from where he was sitting, right by the foot of his bed where his desk was, his computer on and a website open.

"Fine," Dean responded, crossing his arms as he leaned against the foot of Castiel's bed after walking completely in to his room.

Castiel didn't pursue it farther than that, instead putting his computer to sleep before standing. "Let's go then." He nodded at Dean before walking out of the room, not bothering to grab his cell phone. Dean followed after him, a short distance behind him as they went down the stairs and through the winding hallways.

"Are you sure going out in public is a good idea?" Dean asked as they began their descent down the second stairway, doubt finally beginning to set in about the plan for the day. "I mean, you just got attacked yesterday, and I'm _definitely _not ready to defend you. I mean, what I did yesterday was… Was…" Dean trailed off.

Castiel had stopped on the stairs, turning and stepping up to meet Dean as he continued down, nearly knocking in to the other. Their faces were mere inches apart, and Castiel was staring hard in to Dean's eyes. "You've protected me before," he growled under his breath, never breaking his eyes from Dean. They were nearly at the same level with Dean a step higher than Castiel, and Castiel standing to his full height. "More times than you know, Dean. Stop belittling yourself."

His voice was hard and deep, his eyes just the same, and Dean couldn't help but to feel the slightest bit uncomfortable with Castiel's face so close to his own, his breath brushing over his lips. He wanted to ask what Castiel meant, but could do nothing aside from gulp hard, giving a slight nod. Castiel continued to stare at him for a moment before backing himself away, turning and walking down the rest of the stairs.

Dean was frozen, watching him retreat, unwilling to move until Castiel snapped his fingers, getting Dean to finally make his way down to him. "You won't be guarding me today," Castiel explained as they moved out toward the entrance facing the beach and dock. They turned before they reached the door however, hopping down a few steps an into the largest garage Dean had ever seen. There had to have been at least six cars in there.

A blacked-out SUV was on and running, Castiel's father in the front, Mychalla beside him. Dean blinked. "Is he your dad's-"

"-Guard? Yes."

"I thought he was your-"

"-Instructor? Also yes."

Castiel opened the back door, sliding in, letting Dean hop in next to him with an eye roll. He slammed the door shut. "Would you let me finish my sen-"

"No."

Mychalla was driving, and Dean was staring intently out his window as they pulled out of the garage and to the front of the house. There was a wide, sweeping driveway lined with flowers and rocks and perfectly kept grass covering possibly the largest front lawn Dean had ever seen in his life. Arching marble-esque stairways led up each side of the solid mahogany main entrance, and Dean wondered how he'd never actually seen that door.

Perhaps he had, and just didn't know it.

The drive along the road leading out to the highway was long and wavy, gentle curves bordered by reeds and rocks the closer the got to the shore, and flowers and pebbles the farther inland they went.

Dean stared out at the passing scenery, each image bouncing off his eyes as memories of when he was younger played behind them. The beaches and lighthouses made constant reappearance in his location-induced daydream, he and Sam running along the sand near the water, carefully avoiding the stray rock or two carried into the clean area by an unsuspecting visitor. They'd pick it up and return it to its rightful place along the makeshift fence of reeds and rocks around the beach, laughing as they once again ran down the soft sands to the closest lighthouse while their father walked slowly behind them.

Dean was snapped from his thoughts abruptly as the car came to a stop. There had been a gate a short way down the road from where the Novak's home was, and there was another blocking the entrance to to the private road just off of the highway, which they were stopped in front of as the lumbering door slid open. Unlike the one back closer to their home, this gate was large and dark, wiring over the top of it, and multiple measures of security just to enter. Dean couldn't tell exactly what there was, but there appeared to be a card swipe, and a code box.

The car lurched forward again, snapping Dean another level in to society, the voices in the car now ringing out to him. Castiel's was the most clear, followed by his father's booming voice, along with Mychalla's deeper-than-all voice.

Dean felt dainty.

"We need clothes for Dean," Castiel said, and Dean snapped his head over to them.

"We can stop by my house. I have my own clothes," he said, voice barely above a mumble.

"Nonsense," Viktor replied, shifting himself in his seat just enough to peer back at Dean. "What good is money if you can't use for good cause?"

"You make me sound like a charity case," Dean muttered once again.

"No, Winchester," Castiel butted in, though physically shrunk in his seat, head tucking down as his father cleared his throat, clearly unhappy with being interrupted.

Viktor sent a look at Castiel through the mirror, causing his son to look away before he continued. "As my son said, no. You need new wardrobe, and for all I care, you may pay me back. I don't expect, however."

"Why can't I just get my own clothes from home?"

"You need new wardrobe," both Castiel and his father said, suspiciously in synch with each other, making Dean feel as though they'd rehearsed it just to coerce him in to something he wasn't comfortable with.

Castiel was sent yet another look through the rearview mirror, and he backed down. It relieved Dean in a way that he wasn't entirely sure of himself. He eventually resigned with a sigh. "I'll get new clothes."

"Good," Viktor said. The conversation was over without another word, Viktor turning his head the slight degree back to face forward, Castiel looking briefly over at Dean as he sat back up to his full height. He snapped his eyes back to the headrest of his father's seat. Dean found it peculiar just how much of an effect Viktor had on his son, shaking him from his relaxed and friendly state, to one of something reminiscent of a soldier, a good and stern listener with a solid body and perfect form.

Dean swallowed hard, eventually tearing his eyes away from Castiel. They'd pulled up to what could only be described as a strip mall, which confused Dean as it had a gate only openable by a card. But instead of fast food and cheap jewelry stores for teenagers littering the available space, there were lines of tuxedo and bridal shops, shoe stores advertising their best leather, stores filled with suits, and only one shop Dean could call 'casual'.

It shocked him to be lead into the suit store. Dean stared around at the collection of finely made jackets and pants hanging on polished silver racks, pressed shirts folded on clear tables. Dean looked to the rest of his group, who were dressed casually. "Why are we in a suit shop?"

"You need suits," Viktor explained, clapping a man on the shoulder as he came over to greet them before pushing Dean off to a dressing room, tossing him into different pants and jackets and ties and shirts, measuring him, choosing the colors that looked best on him.

It was a new and confusing experience, the new man whipping around without a second thought to any of his motions, scribbling on a pad and measuring Dean repeatedly, seemingly in the same places, which seemed strange, but he wasn't about to argue with a man who's hand was a mere inch from his crotch.

It was done quickly, however, and Dean was grateful for that, returned to the group without anything with him. They left the store, and Dean looked back and the glass windows housing the nice clothing. "I thought I was getting a suit?"

"Suits," Viktor corrected. "And you are. They're tailoring them while we're out."

"So where are we going now?" Dean had been following behind the three men, but Castiel had gradually slowed his pace until he was walking even with Dean, who turned on what he considered to be protection mode to the best of his ability. He stepped closer to Castiel, who in turn, stepped closer to Dean.

It wasn't uncomfortable to be in such close quarters until Dean realized the four of them were pressed into a pack, his arm and hand brushing against Castiel's. He looked over at him. "Why are we walking so close?"

"Pack mentality," Castiel muttered back, turning his head. His lips were against Dean's ear, and his nose in his hair. Dean shivered. "Gather close in time of danger for safety, and general protection. You have it in you, Winchester."

"Good to know," Dean said back. It didn't stop them from walking far closer together than Dean deemed necessary, as there was barely anyone in sight walking around the mall. He took a minuscule step away, but Castiel just drifted with him, sticking close.

Dean didn't fight it, he just let Castiel stay close, their arms and hands still brushing together.

They eventually made their way to a shoe store, where Dean was told to choose two or three pairs of shoes. He didn't see why he'd need so many, as the only choices in the shop were shoes that would go with his suits. But he chose three pairs. A set in black, in brown, and in grey. The workers in the shop, along with Castiel's father and Mychalla, stayed behind as they fitted the supportive soles for Dean's shoes, as well as buying a new pair for Viktor. Castiel and Dean were permitted to go next door into the previously deemed casual store.

Dean didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this.

Based on the observation that all of the other stores in the strip mall were made for what Dean would consider to be gentlemen and others who wish to be fancy, it was a shock to see this store, which appeared to be a mix of Hot Topic, and Forever 21. Weird floral prints and nice jeans and silky button-ups littered the front of the store, gradually fading to darker and more casual clothing toward the back. The store was split in half, women's and men's, and Castiel led the both of them back to the men's section filled with dark clothing and t-shirts.

Castiel scanned over a few stacks before digging in, pulling out dark-washed jeans and slightly fitted t-shirts, tossing them at Dean, hooking a few over his own forearm. Dean caught the articles of clothing, following along blindly until Castiel tossed a pair of canvas shoes at him.

He growled, adding the sneakers to the top of the pile of clothing bundled in his arms. "What are you doing?"

"Shopping."

"So, what? Am I like, your mule?"

"I can carry my own clothes," he responded, holding up a shirt, looking over it before tossing it at Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Then why am I holding all of this?"

"Those for you."

Dean stopped. "Can I not choose my own clothes?"

"No."

Dean groaned, following after Castiel again, his steps wider as he caught back up to him before slowing his pace once more. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean, I choose for you, you look good, we both win."

"So why don't I choose clothes for you?"

"I know what I look good in." Castiel tossed two pairs of pants, one jeans, the other something black, along with a few sets of shorts on to Dean's pile, adding a few of his own before heading back to the dressing rooms.

"And I don't?" Dean asked as they stopped outside of a room. He dropped his pile of clothes on to the counter as a woman counted the number of articles he had. "And how do you even know my sizes?"

"I guessed."

"You're very short with me," Dean said, sitting down on one of the benches outside the line of dressing rooms.

"I'm boss of you."

"Your dad's the boss of me."

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean, slowly rotating to set his pile of clothing down on the counter. "You sure about that, Winchester?" He took a warning step forward, eyes narrowing even more, glinting into predator territory. Dean raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip quirking up in a smirk.

It only took Castiel two large steps to be close to Dean, bending down, hand directly beneath his neck, pressing on the hollow, forcing him back into the wall behind the bench he was sitting on with a grunt. Castiel brought his face in close, pressing harder on Dean's neck. He wasn't cutting off airflow, but it hurt, a stinging pain shooting from the points of his collarbones. Castiel moved in closer still, breathing harder than Dean was used to hearing, though still controlled. Their noses brushed together, and Dean's eyes crossed to keep them on Castiel's.

"You sure you want have this argument," Castiel asked, voice low and gravelly. He reached out to grab Dean's hand with his free one, sliding it up and forward on to his upper thing, placing it on the inside. Dean's fingers wrapped around the shaft of his gun, nestled in his thigh holster, and he gulped. Hard. Castiel smirked lightly. "Winchester."

Dean continued to stare at Castiel, finally admitting defeat as the woman behind the counter called for their attention. Castiel still hadn't broken away, so Dean gave in, tearing his eyes downward. Castiel smirked a bit more, sliding back from Dean, dropping his hand from his neck.

Rubbing the sore spot Castiel had created, Dean wandered over to the counter, only to be handed the piled of clothing. He was pushed toward a door by Castiel, and within moments was alone in the square room, mirror reflecting sharply back at him. He winced at his image. The lighting was unflattering.

"Do I really have to try these on?" Dean called out through the door, half-heartedly glaring at the pair of jeans in his hand. They looked as though they'd fit slim, and there were a few tears in them.

"Which o- It doesn't matter," Castiel added on. "You still have to put on. You have show me too."

"Dude, seriously?"

"Yes."

Dean groaned, but he knew better than to argue with Castiel. He wiggled himself in to the jeans, looking at himself in the mirror. They didn't fit as slim as he thought they would, but the tears made him feel like a rebellious teenager. Not that he wasn't, of course. Just not _this _kind of rebellious teenager. All he needed now was a lip piercing, and he'd be fit for any teen-wave rock concert out there.

He stared at his body. The shirt he had on fit him nicely, not too loose, not too snug. He liked it. But the jeans… "Do I really have to show you?"

"Yes."

"Whatever," he groaned out in a mumble, stepping through the door.

Castiel was immediately looking over him appreciatively, smirking a bit to himself as his eyes dragged over his legs, then back up over his abdomen, and finally back down his legs.

Dean felt uncomfortable.

Ogled.

Castiel continued to stare for a moment, but snapped himself out of it. "I'm…" He shook his head. "It's good. Get it."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Castiel was looking up at his eyes now, and Dean could tell he wasn't fucking around. With what felt like the hundredth eye-roll that day, he turned and stalked back into the room, changing in to the original clothes he'd arrived in.

Castiel looked much more relaxed as he reemerged, his standoffish attitude seemingly long gone. He grabbed the pile of his own clothes, waiting for Dean to collect his own before walking toward the checkout counter.

"Same purchase, different bags," Castiel said as he set down his clothes, pushing his pile to the side as he let Dean set down his own. The girl at the front began ringing up the clothing. Dean watched the price of it rise substantially with every article she rung up, but Castiel was distracted with the packages of boxers and panties lining the front. He grabbed a few packs of the silken boxers, placing a few on Dean's pile. He grab a package of the panties. "Look at these," he said to Dean.

"Very nice," Dean muttered.

"I want them."

"You in to cross-dressing?"

Castiel shrugged, looking at Dean, waiting for some sort of answer that only came in the form of yet another eye-roll. He tossed the package on to his own pile, and the girl rang them up, trying to keep the judgmental look off of her face without much success.

The total cost of their purchase was nearing $800, and Dean was shocked. "That's way too much money."

"Nonsense," Castiel said, handing over his credit card. The woman swiped it before Dean could even begin to argue, and he let out an anguished groan as the purchase went through.

"God, that's way too much."

"No. Don't argue with me."

"I was going to pay you guys back for all of this stuff! That's a lot of money."

"We wouldn't have accepted it anyway."

"My money? Your dad said I could pay you back…"

"He lied." Castiel had his bags around his wrist, and Dean grabbed his own, following the other out of the store, where they met up with the elders, making their way over to the store they'd just come from. "Hi father."

"Castiel. You get clothes?"

"Yes." Castiel nodded, holding up his bags. "I got some. Dean did as well."

"Good." Viktor had a bag in his hands, and Mychalla had a few garment bags in his. Viktor pointed at them. "Your suits, Dean. And your shoes."

Dean's eyes widened, and he held out his hand to take the bag of shoes, thanking Viktor as he was handed them. He made to take his garment bags from Mychalla, but he denied it, turning and walking away before Dean could really ask for them.

They returned back to their vehicle, and Viktor turned around as soon as they were back on the road. He held out a box to Dean, who cocked his head. "What's that?"

"Special cellphone."

"For me?"

"No," Castiel butted in. "Is for me."

Dean rolled his eyes at him. "You're more fun when you're not sassy."

"You're lying."

"You two get along like when you were children," Viktor said, waving the phone at Dean for him to take as he turned to look back out the front of the car. "Always bicker. Just waiting for you two to break something."

Dean looked up from his phone. "What?"

"What you mean, 'what'?"

"When we were children? Did we… know each other?"

"Of course!" Viktor said, looking back over his shoulder once again. "You not remember?"

"I don't remember much," Dean added. "Kind of dark times for my family."

Viktor nodded once as Castiel looked on with confusion. "Dark times? All you did was trade with each other."

"His mother, Castiel."

"What happened?"

"She died," Dean said, looking down at his hands. "I was pretty young. Only seven."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

It was quiet for a minute before Viktor continued, trying to lighten the mood. "But yes. You knew each other. Castiel was the one who insisted on a bounce castle for your party, and you two got angry and began to fight. You tore a part of castle out."

"We didn't," Dean said in disbelief, relaxing back in his chair.

"You did. Your father and I had climb in to pull you two out."

"How'd we pop the castle?"

"You both had pocket knives."

"I did?"

"You got set for birthday. Gave one to Castiel."

"We were fighting with them?"

"We did a lot," Castiel added. He reached across the seat to tug down the corner of Dean's shirt, pointing to the faded white scar just under his collar bone. "Ever wonder where that come from?"

"You, I suppose."

Castiel nodded. "I have one on thigh. You tore my jeans."

"You let us play with knives?" Dean asked Viktor.

"I let you stay at your house. Like I say before. Your father; great brewer, horrible man."

"I don't find it quite so surprising anymore," Dean said, and Viktor laughed.

"Just glad you never killed or hurt too bad. You not know how to use knives back then."

"I still don't know how to use knives," Dean said, though he didn't receive a response as they had just pulled in to a car dealer. On either side of him were lines of luxury and expensive cars, from Mercedes-Benz, to Cadillacs, to Ferraris, a few high-priced used vehicles scattered between them. Dean's eyes widened. "What are we doing here?"

"Castiel tell you we getting new cars, right?"

"Uhh, yeah, but I thought he was kidding."

"Not kidding," Castiel said, brushing passed Dean to one of the huge SUVs. He had to hop up in to it, and Dean was surprised that it was unlocked. He walked around to the other side, hopping up in to the passenger seat beside Castiel. "I should get this. I like Hummers. They feel good."

Dean tried not to see the innuendo in that. "What did you have before?"

"A Bentley. It destroyed now. I like to see assholes try destroy me in _this_."

"You'd just run them over."

"Exactly," Castiel said, running his hand across the smooth dash toward Dean and then back. "Let's go look at Ferraris."

"I thought you wanted an SUV."

"Doesn't mean we can't drive other cars."

And drive them they did.

Castiel had chosen a red one, and Dean had taken a yellow one. A race track or sorts had been in the back of the dealer beside a dirt track for testing Jeeps and other off-road vehicles. They sped around it a number of times, Castiel beating Dean out using whatever driving skills he had garnered over the years. Dean was a little more sloppy, not even having a car to his name previously. He had used his fathers car on occasion, when he needed to get to work or take Sam somewhere and his father wasn't available (or sober), and that was it.

Castiel had settled on the Hummer he'd originally been in, but Dean was more hesitant.

"I don't want a car."

"You get a car."

"I _can't_ get a car. I can't afford any of these, and I'm not letting you buy me a car."

"It's not a choice, Winchester," Viktor finalized. "Choose one."

He chose a Jeep in similar size to Castiel's. Dean rode with Castiel back as Viktor had to drive it back for him because Dean had no license, his wallet left back at the lifeguard stand.

He was handed the keys once home, and Castiel led him back up to their rooms. Dean had just begun to unpack his new clothes when Castiel walked in to his room, flopping on his bed, two pairs of the silken panties in his hands. Dean looked at him, stepping in to his closet to put a pair of shoes away. He paused. "What's with the panties?"

"They yours."

"Oh, no no no," Dean said, walking to grab some more clothes from the bags, carrying a few shirts into his closet. "I didn't want any. _You _did."

"And I want give some to you."

Dean stopped by his bed. "And why's that?"

"You look sexy in them," Castiel said, siting up on the bed. He swung his feet around to the side Dean was standing on,pushing himself up to stand. He was close to Dean, but not too close for either of them, despite that their arms were touching.

Castiel turned to Dean, and Dean half turned to Castiel, shuffling his feet just a bit. "How would you know that?" he muttered.

"Just a guess," he replied, leaning in to mutter in Dean's ear, slipping a few of his fingers in to Dean's waistband, tugging it a small bit away from his hips. He tucked the pairs of panties in, his fingers brushing against the v of his hips outside his boxers as he slipped them out, letting the waistband relax again. "You can show me later."

Dean exhaled shakily as Castiel stepped away from him, fingers brushing against his hips as he sauntered away, leaving Dean's room to return to his own, clicking the door shut behind him. Dean turned and slumped down to the floor in front of his bed, head falling back on the mattress. That had been intense, and a bit weird.

He took a brief moment to collect himself before starting up on putting his clothes away. Once satisfied with how his closet was organized, he stepped in to his bathroom, using some of the body wash he'd been given to clean himself up in the shower. He felt refreshed and relaxed as he stepped out, only for his mood to fall, as well as his towel, the moment he saw Castiel laying on his bed.

He dropped down to pick up his towel, scrambling to wrap it back around his body as he stood once more. "Jesus christ! Why are you in here!?"

"Need to get you. Show you how to use gun." He patted the gun laying beside him on his bed.

"You couldn't have waited!?"

"Nope." Castiel was playing on his phone, laying on his back on Dean's bed, and Dean walked over, snatching the device from his hands. "He-"

"No! Get out!"

"No."

"Yes."

"No." Castiel sat up on the bed, reaching in to his pants, worming his gun out.

Dean grabbed the gun beside Castiel on the bed, pointing it at him. "Yes."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "That gun not loaded." He cocked his gun, pointing it at Dean as he stood, the few extra inches he had on him definitely a detriment to Dean acting strong. He swallowed, and Castiel grinned. "Mine is."

"…Huge dick…" Dean muttered under his breath, dropping his unloaded gun away from Castiel as well as his cellphone to the floor.

"I know it is."

"No that's not- Whatever." Dean dropped it as Castiel took the gun from his hand.

"Whatever you meant, it not matter. It true either way."

"That's not something to be proud of."

"One of them is." Castiel stepped behind Dean, pressing up against him. Dean growled, rolling his towel a bit tighter around his hips. He reached forward to grab Dean's hands, holding them perpendicular to his body as he slipped the gun back in to one of them. "So, first, turn off the safety." Dean did. "Now you need to hold steady." Castiel brought Dean's other hand up to rest under the gun. "Close one eye to aim, and that's it."

"I just pull the trigger?"

Castiel hummed in response, lips near Dean's ear, causing him to shiver. Castiel just pressed closer. "Aiming takes bit of practice, but we can work on later."

"So what do we do in the meantime?"

Castiel was pressed impossibly close to Dean, and while the other had no idea why, he wasn't about to complain, the slightly taller man's nose in his hair, his lips behind his ear. "I have few ideas."

"Like what?" Castiel hummed quietly, sliding his hands down from Dean's to his hips, fingers splaying out, half over the towel and half over his skin. Dean dropped the gun to the floor as his hands fell with it, covering Castiel's. "I don't think we should do this?"

"Do what?"

"You know."

It took a minute, but Castiel finally back away from Dean with a sigh, his hands dropping from his hips. "We talk later," Castiel said as he walked by Dean to leave his room, fingertips brushing against the bare skin of his waist as he passed.

"About what?" Dean asked, though Castiel was gone into his own room, door shut behind him. Dean let out a shaky exhale as he waled to his own door, clicking it shut before letting his towel drop to the ground. He found himself a pair of boxers, the new ones Castiel had chosen for him, and lay on top of his bed in them, calming himself down from the earlier experience.

Dinner had been nice and quiet, the food once again amazing, and Dean really wasn't surprised when Castiel asked him to accompany him back up to their rooms to retire for the night. "Goodnight," he said to the table, which was made up of Viktor along with Alona and a friend.

"Good night," Viktor said in return as he hugged Castiel, kissing his temple. "You be good," he muttered to Castiel.

"When I not good?"

Viktor laughed, his deep bellow echoing around the two of them. "I see the look on your face."

"What look?"

Viktor laughed again. "_Be good_."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Okay."

"Okay." Viktor kissed his temple again. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Viktor let go of his son, and Castiel turned to walk away. Dean waited until the other was in front of him, following him closely out of the room. "Where are your other sisters?"

"Anna and Rachel are visiting Mom-"

"-You have two sisters with names that start with 'A'?"

"Yes," Castiel replied, slightly irritated with the interruption. "Mom name is Alona, and her sister is Anna, that why. Hester is off studying, and Michelle is engaged."

"Isn't she the youngest?"

"Who cares," Castiel replied. They'd reached the top of the stairs, and Dean was yanked back as he made to turn in to his room. He, instead, was pulled in to Castiel's room, shoved up against the wall beside the door as it was closed. "I have a proposition for you," Castiel said, nosing up Dean's neck, pinning his shoulders to the wall.

"And wha- oh!" Castiel kissed right below where Dean's ear met his jaw, his lips cool and soft against his skin "What's that?"

"You're hot, Dean. Sexy"

"A-and?" Castiel kissed the hollow of Dean's neck, running his nose up to beneath his chin, pressing another kiss. Dean shivered, hands linking behind Castiel's back in the small. The other's tall and lean body was pressed solidly up against his own.

"And I haven't been laid in a year."

"So you want to have sex with me?"

"More than that," Castiel muttered, licking a line up Dean's neck, stopping at his pulse point. "Call it, uhh… friends with benefits."

"So you want to have _lots_ of sex with me?"

"Oh yes." Castiel attacked his lips to Dean's pulse point, sucking a bruise in to place. Dean felt like pushing him away, the mark sure to be far too visible, but it felt too good for him to stop it. He curled his fingers in to Castiel's back on either side of his spine, and Castiel pulled away, smirking lightly. "We also make out, maybe do some other stuff…"

"So, like a relationship?"

"Without all the love, and dates, and… schmoopy things, yes."

"So, friends with benefits?"

Castiel backed himself away just enough to look in to Dean's eyes without straining or crossing his own. "How can I make more clear? Yes. Friends with benefits."

"Why haven't you kissed me yet?"

"What do you mean? I have."

"On the lips," Dean explained.

"Will once I hear answer."

Dean was quiet for a moment, his fingers still pressed in to Castiel's back, his shoulders still pinned to the wall by Castiel's hands. "Can I think about it?"

Castiel nodded. "It only eight now. Come back… eleven or midnight. Tell me then."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Castiel stepped back from Dean after sucking another bruise in to his neck, this one low enough to be hidden by one of the button-ups Castiel had picked for him earlier that day. It took a moment, but Dean was finally able to push himself away from the wall, his hand brushing against Castiel's hip as the other's ran down his arm. He stopped right beside Castiel, turning just enough to kiss his jaw before moving on, leaving his room.

Once back in what he considered to be his room, though it was still new and relatively unfamiliar, he flopped on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

The touches and innuendo and longing stares throughout the day now made sense to him, but it'd been just a day that Castiel had known Dean, excluding their childhood. Was he really that desperate to be with someone that he couldn't wait? But then again, Castiel was _very _attractive, and seeing him do what he had done the day before, in terms of fighting and generally being a badass in Dean's eyes… Well, it'd been hot. He couldn't deny that. And it'd turned him on. He didn't _want _to deny that.

And Dean was always up for getting laid.

Always.

But the _commitment_, if you could call it that, of labeling themselves as 'friends with benefits' bothered Dean. What if he couldn't handle the uncertainty of their relationship? What if it was too much for him to deal with? What if Castiel sucked in bed?

Dean shook his head.

Castiel wouldn't suck in bed.

Dean was left to himself and his thoughts on the entire relationship and its possibilities while Castiel lay on his bed in his room, doing quite the opposite, his hand in his pants as he played on his phone, switching between videos of porn and stupid youtube videos.

He wasn't quite in the mood to get himself off, much more interested in Dean doing so for him, but it was worth the effort, he decided, to calm himself down before Dean returned with his answer in a few hours.

Both were nervous, Castiel's out of excitement, and Dean's out of worry, but lingering feelings and emotions were tied in for different reasons neither one could truly explain.

Dean turned to look at his clock. He had another 3 or more hours to himself. He closed his eyes, flipping his hands behind his head, making a makeshift pillow instead of reaching up to just grab one. He felt he needed to sleep on it, and sleep on it he did.

* * *

**I forget if I did this in earlier chapters, but just as a reminder, there is the potential of: Character death (may be major), abuse, lots of violence, sexual abuse, other triggering things. If you have any questions, feel more than free to ask.**

**On top of that, I'm sorry it took 2 weeks to update. I was thinking about just not updating until I have he whole story written, but as I've already started publishing it, I'd like to know why those of you who read this think? Please let me know! **

**Thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4

*****SPOILER ALERT or something*** sexytimes ahead *****

* * *

Dean woke up around 2am, his vision bleary and his mind confused as he looked around his room. He'd originally fallen asleep clothed and on top of his bed, but he was now down to his boxers, tucked somewhat awkwardly under his comforter, his body in a new position after seemingly being dragged higher up on his bed to rest on his pillows.

It was strangely comforting.

It was a few minutes before Dean finally rolled his head to side to check the time, and immediately sat straight up, furiously rubbing his eyes, trying to wake himself up. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck," he muttered to himself as he slid to the edge of them bed. He pushed himself to his feet, letting his body balance out before he padded to his door and out of his room.

Castiel's door was shut, and it looked dark inside, but Dean still went in. The only light coming in was from the moon shining through the window above Castiel's bed, faintly illuminating the sleeping man, who had headphones in as he slept with his back toward Dean and his face close to the wall.

Dean shut the door quietly behind him as he tiptoed forward to Castiel's bed, siting on the mattress beside the other. "Castiel," he whispered, eyes roaming over his sheet-covered body, the thin cotton clinging to his body, outlining it, showing off the shape of his hips poking out from the rest of his body. "Castiel," he whispered again, reaching forward to place his hand over Castiel's hips. He shook it lightly. "Castiel. Castiel. Castiel. Cas-"

The rest of Dean's words were muffled as Castiel rolled over, grabbing Dean's arms, flipping him on to his back as he straddled his hips, pocket knife flicked out and pressed to Dean's neck. One of his earbuds had been yanked from his ear, and it was swinging in between the two of them. Dean could hear soft sounds coming from it, and he was surprised Castiel could be so stoic while such pleasant sounds were playing.

Dean cleared his throat weakly, trying to get Castiel to move the knife, but he just pressed it down harder, his eyes piercing in to Dean's. "What you doing?" he asked, voice impossibly more deep that it normally was, the scratchiness of sleep still wearing on it.

Dean was nervous to answer, afraid of the knife brushing the wrong way against his throat. "You told me to come tell you my answer."

"Yes. At midnight."

"I didn't think you'd care about the time."

"I was sleeping."

"I'm sorry."

Castiel relaxed his arm, sliding his knife away from Dean's neck. Dean took in a deep breath, feeling his adams apple slide up and back down as he swallowed. Noticing Castiel's eyes were still locked on his own, he swallowed again, and Castiel spoke. "So, you have chose?"

"What?"

"You made decision?"

"Sorta."

Castiel sighed and slid of of Dean's hips, tucking his sheet around him, hiding himself despite the fact he had his boxers on. "What that mean?"

"I mean… I don't know. Shouldn't we be friends before we do this? You know, _friends _with benefits?"

"We are friends."

"I don't know anything about you."

"Better if you don't."

"Better if I do," Dean replied, finally pushing himself to sit up. "Those are my… situational agreements. You become friends with me, and in turn, we can have sex."

"And if I don't agree?"

"I'm perfectly comfortable with jacking myself off."

"Even with me right here waiting?"

"You make it sound like you're going to be some fuck toy to me."

Castiel settled back against his bed. "Aren't I?"

"Is that all I'd be to you?"

"I don't know. Too early to think." Castiel grabbed one of Dean's hands, pulling it over to rest low on his stomach. "Let's fuck."

"The more you talk to me, the sooner we have sex."

Castiel rolled his eyes with a groan. "I not like talking."

"Seriously?"

"It weird. I not know you anymore."

"Exactly. And yet you want to have sex with me."

"You want to have sex with me too!"

"But I at least want it to mean something!"

"It sex! It not have to mean anything!"

Their voices were growing progressively louder, but they took note of it, taking a moment to calm themselves before Dean continued. "What do you mean 'it doesn't mean anything'? Of course it does."

"I've had sex with people before. No it doesn't."

"Were they one-night stands?"

"Essentially," Castiel nodded.

"But this won't be. Can't you see how bad it would be for us to treat it like it is?"

"I don't get what be so bad. No, it not _really _like one night stand, but it… is."

"How?"

"It like multiple ones in row."

Dean shook his head, crossing his arms as he tucked his knees up. "Whatever you say. I'm not doing it unless we're closer." Castiel scooted closer to Dean. He earned a glare. "_Emotionally _closer."

Castiel rolled his eyes, scooting back away from Dean, pressing in to the wall, leaning on it instead of the bed. "Then leave. I have no use for you anymore."

That hurt. "No use? At all?" Castiel shook his head. "Fine. Then let me go home."

"I don't want you dead."

"I didn't see anyone after us today!"

"Don't think they'd notice you if went in to _actual _public?

"Won't know until I try!" Dean shoved himself off of Castiel's bed after turning his body to let his feet rest on the ground.

Castiel glared at him. "See you at your funeral."

"Yep," Dean said, stepping out of Castiel's room, slamming the door behind him. He walked back in to his own room, clicking the door shut quietly. He slammed himself on to his bed, flipping on to his back, arms pressed to his sides and in to the mattress. Eyes glared hard at the ceiling, fingers clenching and unclenching in the bed-sheet below him.

The fact that Castiel hadn't even been willing to _try _what Dean had suggested. It wasn't like he was asking for a relationship. He wasn't asking for cuddling and soft kisses and _romantic_ things. All he wanted was to know a _little bit_ about the man who he'd be fucking, or being fucked by, and Castiel had shot him down without a second thought.

Dean rolled his eyes over to look at the clock, the light flashing slightly after 2:30a.m.

He groaned, punching the pillow with his head as he tried to make it comfortable, his fingers gradually beginning to relax along with the rest of his body as time ticked slowly on.

It was another thirty or forty minutes, Dean was unsure, before anything happened. His door creaked open slightly and quietly, the only give away being the extra light flowing in from the outside hallway for a brief moment before it was gone just as fast and quietly as it appeared.

Dean didn't hear anything after the nearly-silent shutting of his door, but his bed dipped beside him and a solid warmth was pressed over his hips as Castiel straddled them, hands coming forward to cup his face as he leaned in close, kissing lightly up the side of his neck.

"My favorite color purple," he muttered, pressing a kiss below Dean's jaw. "I hate blue jeans. Any other color fine. Listen to some metal, or hard rock, whichever. But also I listen to the.. acoustic? Yes." He nodded, deciding that was the best phrase for it. Castiel licked up the center of Dean's neck, pressing a kiss to his chin. "I have battle scars because I badass and fight a lot. Don't kiss them. It make me feel weird. Feel free to bite or lick, though."

Dean hadn't said anything, doing nothing more than simply raising his hands to rest high up on Castiel's thighs near his hips, thumbs rubbing in small circles. Castiel nipped over Dean's shoulder. "I broke my arm once on purpose so Alona not feel so out of place when she broke hers. I shaved m-"

"What is this about?"

Castiel paused, pulling back just a bit though his hands remained cupped around Dean's face. "I telling you about me."

"Why?"

"So I can be with you."

"So you can have sex with me?" Dean clarified.

Castiel nodded once, though Dean could barely see. "Yes."

"You're willing to open up to me?"

He hesitated, but nodded again. "Yes."

Dean held on to Castiel's hips as he pulled himself up and Castiel down, bringing his shoulders close enough to kiss. He attached his lips on the slope from his neck to his shoulder, sucking and nipping on the spot as he tugged Castiel to lay flat on top of his as he relaxed back in to the mattress, his pillow cushioning up around him, pressing in to his cheeks.

There was a decent bruise sucked in to Castiel's skin, slight indents from Dean's teeth where he'd bitten him a few times were visible around the gradually darkening spot.

Castiel kissed Dean's temple, and Dean spoke. "I… I don't have any… stuff."

"Come with me." Castiel shoved himself back from Dean, rocking back on his hips before sliding off of the other, earning a whine from Dean at the loss of the pressure above him. He didn't stop, continuing on to the hallways between the two rooms. Dean finally snapped inside of himself, scrambling off of the bed in a half-aroused, half-asleep state, stumbling over his feet as he made his way to Castiel, who grabbed his hips and dragged him in to his room, kissing his jaw before tossing him back on to his bed.

He dropped to his knees on the floor as Dean supported himself on his elbows after crawling properly on to the bed, watching as Castiel rustled through one of his dresser drawers. He pulled out a box of condoms, a few missing. He took one out, dropping the box back in with a quiet thud as he grabbed some lube and hopped back on to the bed, leaving his freshly-grabbed objects off to the side as he crawled over Dean, dipping his head to suck and nip at his jaw.

Castiel was more than excited to get going, knowing full well what was coming. He managed to wedge his hand between Dean and the bed, worming his hand in to Dean's boxers, cupping his ass. Yet another bruise was sucked in to his neck as he gave the flesh under his fingers a squeeze, causing Dean's hips to roll up with a quiet moan. Castiel grinned against his skin. "That's hot."

"What?"

He squeezed his ass again, earning another roll of his hips paired with a moan. "That."

Dean slid one of his hands up from where he'd let them rest on Castiel's hips, fingertips tracing over the bumps of his spine on their way up to tangle in the dark, messy locks of the man above him, raising his head for the mattress to whisper "More where that came from if you'd just fuck me already." by his ear, breath hot over the shell.

That was all the permission Castiel needed to take control, slipping off of Dean's hips, lifting them once off to slide his boxers down before letting them fall to the mattress once more, Castiel's sheets puffing up around him before falling flat, causing a cool brush of air to spread over Dean's skin. He shivered.

Castiel pulled his boxers off the rest of the way, tossing them one direction before taking off his own, dropping them off the foot of the bed before crawling back on to Dean, resting over his thighs now instead of his hips.

Moonlight was glinting in to Castiel's room through his singular window. The broken up stripes of it due to the shades were painted across Castiel's body, and Dean lost himself in the toned, though not over visible muscles across his abdomen. The dark bruise was still in place, making Dean wince internally. It didn't seem to be bothering Castiel, however, who moved without even the slightest detriment in his actions.

Dean watched as his skin folded as he bent over. He only snapped out of his bodily trance as Castiel's tongue fell flat against his half-hard cock, licking up the shaft of it, stopping just at the lip of the head. Dean moaned, and Castiel grinned once again, licking another stripe up the shaft, a hand coming between them to cup and gently massage at Dean's balls.

He peered up at Dean, flicking his tongue out across the tip, earning a moan Dean attempted to hold back, but it barely worked at all, only breaking the involuntary sound in half. With another grin, he was taking Dean in his mouth, his lips closing around his shaft.

Wet heat covered Dean, and he pressed his head in to the mattress. It'd been a while for him, finally deciding to focus on school work in order to graduate, and then work to pay for whatever community college he decided to attend, pushing sex out of the way, and now that he was back to it, he couldn't understand why he'd stopped.

Castiel was bobbing his head at a slow pace, making Dean more hard by the moment. He fisted his fingers in to Castiel's hair, though it fell out a minute later when Castiel pulled away with a pop, kissing up Dean's abdomen.

"Why'd you stop?" Dean asked, voice weak. "It felt good."

"Tease." Castiel grinned, sliding off of Dean's thighs, kissing his legs three times each. "Roll over."

Bottoming was new to Dean. After a beat of hesitation, however, he rolled over. He looked back as far as he could. "I… I'm not too sure about bottoming."

"What so wrong with it?"

"I've never done it before."

Castiel leaned forward, kissing behind Dean's ear. "Just relax. I know what I'm doing. I'll even let you ride me."

Dean nibbled on his lower lip, but nodded. "Okay."

Another kiss was placed behind his ear. "Okay."

Dean relaxed his body, letting Castiel manipulate him how he wanted. His hips were pulled up by an arm slipped underneath him. He brought his knees up to support himself, and Castiel pressed down on the middle of his back, causing him to arch downward, angling his ass higher for Castiel, who spread his legs just a bit. Dean couldn't see much of anything, but he heard the quiet uncapping of the lube, and he _definitely _felt Castiel's slicked finger circling around his entrance with gentle pressure, pushing in with little warning.

Dean gasped and his muscles clenched. Castiel used his free hand to massage Dean's back, up near the small, relaxing him gradually. "I know it feel weird, but it do feel good."

Castiel was surprisingly more gentle with Dean than he'd initially anticipated after spending around 2 days with the man, but it wasn't a bad thing. More of a pleasant misjudgment than a disappointment.

He was careful with what he was doing, ensuring Dean was plenty stretched and ready to take him on.

Castiel pulled away and moved to lean back, angled against the headboard of the bed, grabbing and tearing the foil-packaged condom open. Dean pushed himself up from where he'd been laying, watching Castiel roll the rubber down and over himself.

He was finally able to take in Castiel completely, and he wasn't disappointed. He wasn't overly long -definitely not short- but he was thick. Dean knew women would kill to have a man with a cock like that, and he hoped he'd feel the same way when this was over with.

Castiel was done with the condom, now focusing on putting enough lube on himself to make it comfortable for Dean, who had crawled over Castiel's legs, sitting on them as he waited. Castiel looked up when he was done, gesturing Dean forward. He crawled up his body, attempting to kiss Castiel, but only getting his cheek in return.

Hands were on his hips a moment later, pulling him in to place. Castiel looked up to him, locking their eyes. "Take it slow. I won't rush you."

"You're very understanding about this."

"I know what it like to bottom. It can be pretty intense first time."

Dean nodded, and Castiel returned it, hands holding steady on Dean's hips, keeping him angled and in the right place, letting Dean lower himself down. When he was ready, he slowly let himself relax down on Castiel, pushing the tip in.

Castiel's hold on Dean's hips began to waver as the other man lowered himself down, the tight heat surrounding him feeling so good after so long without it. He had to hold himself back from pushing up as Dean continued moving down, gradually taking all of Castiel in.

Dean had pressed himself down as far as he could, the back of his thighs pressed against the front of Castiel's. Nails were dug in to Dean's hips, and then gone, pressing in to his back moments later as Castiel tugged their abdomens together, pressing his cheek to Dean's chest as he breathed hard, his breath brushing across his skin.

"Feel so good," Castiel breathed. "Been so long. You so _tight_…." He shakily exhaled, relaxing his fingers, leaving half crescents in rows of four down either side of Dean's spine. He let their abdomens separate just a breadth. "God."

Dean had his hands on Castiel's shoulders, keeping him decently close. "You're big."

"You get used to it."

"When?"

"You know."

Dean _did _know. It was as if all of his muscles relaxed at once after a few minutes, his body finally adjusted to the completely unfamiliar feeling of another man inside of him. It wasn't unpleasant, and his body wasn't protesting anymore. He just felt full. He shifted his hips, and Castiel gasped.

"You ready?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"Then move."

It took another moment, but Dean finally began to move, Castiel sliding his hands back down to his hips to help him. He didn't move far up before sliding back down, hands tightening on Castiel's shoulders to support himself.

Castiel was utterly complacent and patient with Dean's unsure movements and actions, so different from how Dean had seen him before, doing nothing more than gently guiding him along, letting out little moans every time Dean let himself slide back down.

He, once again, wasn't complaining. It was just new.

"I'm going to do something," Castiel muttered after a good minute. Dean went up on his cock, and his hands tightened on Dean's hips as he pressed his own down in to the mattress, only raising them back up to meet Dean as he came down with his hips in a slight roll from Castiel's gentle guidance with his hands.

He moaned at the new and needed friction between them, and Dean tightened his fingers around Castiel's shoulders. "Like that? You want that?"

Castiel nodded. "Just like that."

Dean nodded once before lifting his hips again, watching as Castiel's abdomen muscles stretched as he pushed his own down, and how they relaxed as he moved them back up, meeting Dean in the middle with a roll and a moan.

He didn't know how it happened, but their pace gradually grew faster, falling in synch with each other without so much as a word spoken between them, aside from the occasional moan or curse word slipping from their lips.

The gradual tightening of Castiel's fingers around Dean's hips, and the slight loss of rhythm gave away that Castiel was close to finishing, but Dean still asked, his breath shaky as he fucked himself down on Castiel's cock. "Are you-"

"-Close? Y-es." Castiel bit his lip, fucking harder up in to Dean, biting back his moans the best he could. "Very clo-ose."

Dean leaned in closer to Castiel, dipping his head down to suck on his neck the best he could with their bodies moving in near opposite directions as they fucked.

"Dean," Castiel whined after a minute, pressing his head back in to the headboard. He let out a strain of russian, what Dean could only assume contained cuss words as his hips bucked up in to Dean haphazardly, loosing his restraints from earlier. Dean kept the rhythm himself, urging Castiel on. "Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean… Oh… God-shit!"

Castiel's fingers dug in to Dean's hips, his nails carving half-crescents in to his skin nearly immediately. He let out a whine of a moan in to Dean's chest as he tugged him close, pressing their abdomens together again. Whispered words of mingled russian and english slipped through his lips nearly breathlessly, his fingers squeezing even harder in to Dean's hips briefly before relaxing with the rest of his body as he came down from his high, his stuttering hips finally calming down.

After a moment, Castiel pushed up on Dean's hips, urging him off of him and on to the bed, laying on his back with his head on Castiel's pillows. His recovery time was remarkably short, Dean decided, as Castiel had rolled over on to his knees, one hands barring himself up as he kissed down Dean's neck, shoulder, arm, and hand, kissing down to the end of his fingers.

Dean shivered at how strange it felt, though didn't protest as Castiel let his fingers fall back to the mattress, kissing his thigh and up to his hip. He straddled Dean's legs as he wrapped his fingers around the base of Dean's cock, leaning down to kiss up the shaft and tip, flicking his tongue out before taking him in his mouth.

Dean pressed his head down in to the pillows, rolling his eyes back to stare at the wall behind him, focusing on Castiel's warm mouth and plump lips wrapped tightly around him, the texture of his tongue pressed against his shaft. He moaned, stretching his fingers down to run through Castiel's hair, musing them before tugging, locking his fingers around the dark trusses.

Castiel hummed as his hair was tugged, and Dean moaned again, rolling his hips up in to Castiel's mouth. He didn't receive protest from it, so he did it again. Castiel pulled away with a smirk, and Dean whined. "Take a lot more than that make me choke."

"That a dick joke, or can you deep-throat?"

"Both." Castiel smirked again, taking Dean in completely, and Dean tugged on his hair again.

"You're so hot," Dean said after minute, straining his neck to look down his body at Castiel, tugging again on his hair with a moan. "So fucking hot." Castiel hummed in response, and Dean rolled his hips, stuttering as they fell back down.

"I'm close," he warned, though Castiel didn't relent even a bit, beginning to hum without wavering, hand coming down to massage Dean's balls again. Dean had never had that done before, but it sure felt good. "Really. I'm close."

Castiel still didn't back off, so Dean gave him one final tug on his hair as warning before slamming his head back in to the pillows beneath him, fingers still tight in his hair, using the locks as something for him to hold on to.

"Jesus… Oh god… Jesus… Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…" he repeated, squeezing his eyes just tight, hips bucking up against his control. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fu-Oh!" Dean came without much more of a warning than that, shooting hot down Castiel's throat, though the other didn't complain, just sucking Dean through it, swallowing down what he could when he could.

Castiel only pulled away when Dean's hips fell still and he'd sucked him dry. He pulled away with a pop and crawled off of his bed, stepping in to his bathroom to remove his condom before coming back, collapsing on the bed beside Dean, who curled in to him, kissing his neck. "You swallowed."

"You let me shove my dick in you. It least I can do," he replied, grabbing Dean's hand, holding on to two of his fingers.

"That's blunt," Dean muttered, looking down at their hands. "Thought you didn't want to do the handholding-cuddling thing."

"I don't. Cuddling not my thing. This just for now."

"So I go back to my room in a few minutes?"

Castiel nodded, turning his head to look at Dean, who's face was right by his shoulder. "Yes. Unless you want stay, but it not be different than like… sleep night."

"Sleep over?"

Castiel nodded. "Only had one of those before."

"Only one?"

"Yes. With you."

Dean smiled faintly. "Really?"

"Father had go to visit mother, but it your birthday, and I not want leave, so I stayed with you at your house."

"I only had this shitty little mattress when I was young…"

"We shared it anyway."

Dean chuckled quietly. "I could see that. I wish I could remember back then." Castiel smiled, but it was only a flash before his face fell once again. Dean knitted his brows. "What's that face about?"

"… You not remember _anything_ from when we kids, do you?"

Dean shook his head. "Most of it's a blur. I barely even remember when my mom died."

"I never know she died. It happen when you seven, right?" Dean nodded. "I should have known. I stop seeing her around, but I thought she like my mom. Go somewhere else to be safe…" Castiel rolled his eyes. "I bad friend."

"You were… nine or ten. It's not your duty to know things never told to you."

"Still feel bad."

"Don't." Dean nudged Castiel's jaw to get in at his neck, kissing the soft skin there. He yawned as he pulled away and sat up. "I'm tired. I… I think I'll go to bed now." He looked back at Castiel, moving it to kiss him. Castiel turned away. That hurt. "Why won't you kiss me?"

"I swallowed."

"So?"

"I don't want you to taste it."

"I don't care," Dean said, moving in for another kiss, but Castiel turned away again.

"I do."

With a huff of a breath, Dean was leaning in a gain, moving fast, managing to kiss the far corner of Castiel's lips more on his cheek than anything, which stilled the other, letting the kiss last longer than just a swift peck.

Dean pulled away, scooting to the edge of the bed, pushing himself to his feet. He found his boxers, or at least a pair that looked like his, and slipped them on. "Uhh… Goodnight, Castiel."

Castiel wedged himself in to his blankets, watching as Dean walked to the door. "Goodnight."

Dean paused to nod once at Castiel as a final goodbye before leaving, clicking his door shut behind him.

He stumbled in to his own room, flopping on to his bed. His muscles felt a bit sore, despite that the sex really hadn't been too trying nor aggressive. One of the perks of being a bottom, he decided as he curled up under his comforter, grateful for how silky and cool the sheets were against his still-hot skin.

He fell asleep easily, but didn't sleep for long, waking up around 6 hours later. Another half hour passed before he decided to actually get out of bed to shower.

The water was hot and stung his skin, but he got used to it quickly, enjoying how it relaxed his still-tense and sore muscles from the night before, he could only assume. It was a difficult choice to get out, but he didn't want to waste all of the hot water. The air was cool, sending a shock through his body, forcing him to dress quickly.

Tossing on clothes he'd never really worn before was strange, and the fineness and crispness of the clothes was new to him, never really having a lot of truly new clothes, his father never in the mood to take he or Sam shopping, or leave enough money for the both of them when Dean offered to drive them to the mall. Sam would be the one to get new clothes, and Dean would take what was left to the nearest thrift shop.

He always got what he needed, but it was never anything this nice. He tugged at the sleeve of the button-up, the seams tight and sturdy. He swallowed, eyeing himself -or what he could see of himself- in the sliver of the bathroom mirror reflecting his image. He looked good.

Running a hand through his hair, he turned to leave his room, slipping his phone in to his pocket. He shut his door, looking up at the click shortly after his own. Castiel was standing right outside of his door, quite the contrast in his appearance to Dean. He had a rumpled look to him, scruff on his face, his t-shirt a bit too small, fitting him tightly, and his jeans ripped, his hair spiked up in every direction.

Dean smirked. "I do that to you?"

Castiel touched his hair. "This? Yes."

Dean's smirk grew. "Looks good on you."

"Know what look good on you?" Castiel asked, stepping to Dean, his eyes glinting with a nearly predatory look. He pressed Dean in to his door with one had, stepping close, their chests touching.

"What?" Dean breathed, peering to look down the hall to the stairwell. He saw no one.

Castiel smirked, looking up in to Dean's eyes briefly. His hand slid to the back of Dean's neck, holding on to the baby hairs there, nudging his jaw up with his nose to get back to the spot where his jaw, ear, and neck met. He flicked his tongue out against the spot before attaching his lips, sucking hard, pinning Dean more in to the door.

Dean brought a hand up to tangle in Castiel's hair, and that's when he pulled away, reaching back to smack Dean's hand away. "You had your fun last night."

"Sorry. Hard to resist."

"Tame yourself."

"Why?" he asked, holding on to Castiel's hips instead.

Castiel stepped back. "Because it time for lunch, and you have visible hickeys."

Dean reached up to feel his throat, rubbing over where he knew a few bruises were. Castiel laughed at him and turned, walking to the stairwell.

"Hey!" Dean followed after him, falling in to step with him as they walked down the stairs. He reached behind Castiel, resting his hand on his ass, squeezing. Castiel didn't complain. "So what's your dad gonna think about this?"

"You hickeys and my sex hair?" Dean nodded. "He not care. Well, he will if he know you do anything to me."

"So you can fuck me, but I can't fuck you?"

"You fuck me all you want," Castiel replied, turning around one of the corners. Dean dropped his hand from his ass. "He just not know. I not fuck you, either, if make you feel better. But I can say I drunk and give you hickeys."

"Have you done that before?"

"Yes."

Dean laughed as the made their way down the last sweeping stairwell, landing in the foyer. He let his pace fall, following Castiel down the hallway to the dining room. Viktor was already seated, along with Alona and her friend down at the opposite end of the table.

Alona's friend looked up as they entered, waggling her fingers at Dean with a slight smile as she dragged her eyes up and down his body. Dean waved back, though was snapped out of it, his attention back to Castiel as Viktor sighed. "Castiel. I said be good."

"I _was_ good," Castiel responded, sitting down beside his father, gesturing for Dean to join him, though Viktor was up on his feet and by Dean in one step, a hand on his shoulder, the other on his neck.

"This not look like good," he said, gesturing to the bruises on Dean's neck. Alona and her friend were now watching intently, Castiel's sister trying to hide her grin.

"We got in fight. Those choke bruises."

"No, _you_ have choke bruises. These not choke bruises."

Dean squirmed uncomfortably under the gaze of all who were in the dining room, wanting to sit down and hide himself. Castiel rolled his eyes. "I was drunk. Too much vodka at dinner."

"So you do this to him?"

Castiel nodded. "It fun. His skin nice and soft." Dean cheeks tinted red, burning his skin down to his neck, and the girls giggled.

"Castiel," Viktor warned. "I said be good."

"I was good. _Very good_."

"Very good? What, you have sex?" Viktor turned his attention to Dean. "You have sex with my son!?"

Dean's eyes were wide. "What!? No! I would never-"

"-What, too good for him?"

_What?_ "What!? No! If anything, he's too good for me. I mean, he's so, so, _so_ hot, a-"

"-What!?"

"I don't know what you want me to say!" Dean was lost, and confused, and quite frankly a bit scared of how large Viktor was next to him, and that his hand still hadn't left his neck. He could kill him in an instant.

Castiel had his lips sucked between his teeth, his eyes light, trying not to laugh, though Alona couldn't hold it back anymore. "Daddy, stop! You scaring poor boy."

"He defiled my son!"

"No I didn't!" That wasn't exactly a lie.

"Who care, Daddy! Castiel twenty! He can have boyfriend if he want."

"We did nothing," Castiel finally added. "I went in Dean's room, tried kissing him, then… that what happen. He not fight me, but he not support it. I did it."

Viktor finally backed off of Dean, which sent a flood of relief through the teen. "He not do anything to you?"

Castiel shook his head. "No. It all me."

Viktor sighed, gesturing for Dean to sit down as he did so himself. "I say be good, and you do opposite."

"It not big deal. Father, I twenty. Dean eighteen. We not do anything, but we could if want."

"Not under my roof."

"Father!"

"My rules." Viktor sighed. "You my only son. I want you safe."

"Dean not dangerous."

"You know what I mean."

Castiel rolled his eyes, reaching forward to grab a sandwich off of the platter one of the staff had set down just moments before. "Can't protect me forever. And we not even do anything. Just friends."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Just friends."

Viktor sighed once again. "Let's eat."

After lunch, Mychalla showed up, taking Dean out for a run down the fenced in beach around all of the houses in the fence, despite Dean's protests to it. He'd only agreed to go when Viktor reminded him that it was part of his job, and Castiel had whispered in his ear that he'd have something _extra_ special for him that night if he went.

When they got back, Dean was exhausted, but he wasn't done. More martial arts training, if you could call it that, and Dean was finally allowed to take a break.

He thought he'd been sore the night before.

He was trudging through the main foyer, hoping to get up to his room, but no such luck was awarded to him. A hand hand its fingers gripping tight to the sleeve of his shirt, and he was tugged down a hallway underneath the sweeping stairway and down a short flight of steps.

There was a cement room they emerged in, and Dean finally decided to see who had dragged him down. "Castiel, seriously? I wanna shower."

"I have to show how to use gun."

"Didn't you do that yesterday?" he asked as Castiel handed him earmuffs and glasses. Dean hooked the earmuffs around his neck, sliding on the glasses before being handed a handgun.

"Make sure you know how to use, and how to aim. Not hard, but… still. Could mean life or death."

"That's comforting."

"It should be."

After he put on his earmuffs, Dean cocked the gun like Castiel had showed him the day before, turning and aiming at the figurine at the end of one of the three shooting stalls in the cement room. He pulled the trigger, and the gun fired off, the bullet whizzing passed the figure, hitting the wall, bouncing off and clattering to the ground, the sound of metal clinking around the room.

"Maybe aim," Castiel supplied, stepping behind Dean. He brought his arms up from behind him, showing him to support the gun properly. "Close one eye," he said. Dean did. "Now aim for the target. Shoot when ready." He stepped back, giving Dean a moment to shoot.

The gun fired off, and this time it hit the figure, buzzing through it, the metal shell nuzzling in to the sand bag behind it. His goal was the center, and he just a bit off it, but he was proud of himself regardless. Castiel stepped up behind him again, kissing his ear. "Good. Do again."

"If you kiss me again."

"After you do it."

Dean shot the gun again, hitting about where he had the last time. Castiel kissed his neck.

"I can get used to that."

* * *

**I've already got a jump on the next chapter so it may not take as long to get out as this one!**

**Till next time**


	5. Chapter 5

**I am so SO sorry this took so long.**

* * *

Their routine followed as such after that first day. Dean woke up, ate breakfast or lunch, depending on when he woke up, went on a run before self defense and general training, then ate dinner and spent some time with Castiel before going back to their rooms, having sex and cuddling before going to bed. It was a routine he didn't intend to break, perfectly content with it all.

He hadn't heard from his family, but he really didn't think he would. He left a few messages, and tried to call when Sam would pick up, but it never worked out. School was around the starting point, however, and he'd gotten word from one of his ex coworkers when he called in to let them know he wouldn't be returning that Sam was just fine, though missed his big brother more than anything.

Everything was perfectly fine until Dean remembered that Viktor actually had to _do _something to earn the money that he did, and warrant bodyguards for him and his family.

"You can't wear that to a club," Castiel said, eyeing Dean's outfit disapprovingly. It was evening, Dean called down from his room nearly an hour after dinner.

"You said to blend in!"

"Do you even know what kind of club this is?"

"… There are different types?"

Castiel rolled his eyes, and Viktor shook his head, shooing them out of his office, gesturing for them to get Dean in to something else. Castiel grabbed the cuff of the shirt he had on, dragging him off to his room. He shoved Dean in to his bathroom when he got there, leaving to hunt through his closet before coming back out with something more appropriate.

When he came back in to the bathroom, Dean was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt. Castiel smirked, leaning against the door frame after setting the new clothes on the counter.

Dean looked up about halfway down his shirt. "What are you smirking about?"

"Just watching you strip. It more interesting two nights ago."

Dean locked his eyes on Castiel's, walking toward him, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. He stopped in front of Castiel, reaching out to rest his hands on his hips. "Care to do me the honor?" he asked, tearing his eyes away to look down at his unbuttoned shirt briefly, then back up.

"My pleasure." Castiel grinned, putting his hands on Dean's shoulders, worming his shirt down as he leaned in, attaching his lips to Dean's neck, sucking and kissing, but not hard enough to leave a mark.

He pulled away when Dean's shirt was piled around his wrists, licking his lips. Dean licked his lips as well, waiting a beat before raising one of his hands, cupping Castiel's cheek. He leaned in, about to kiss Castiel before the other turned his head, leaving Dean's lips on his cheek. He didn't give up, however, peppering kisses across his cheeks to the corner of his lips, gently trying to guide Castiel to turn his face back to him, but he wouldn't.

Dean sighed. "We've been fucking for like, a month, and you still won't let me kiss your lips."

"Something wrong with that?"

"Yeah. No…" Dean shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "I mean, I _really _want to kiss you, and for some reason, you won't let me."

"It not that great." He looked over to the counter, reaching out to grab Dean's new shirt. He pushed it against his abdomen with more force than was necessary, knocking Dean away from him. "Get dressed."

"Why are you so cold about this?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Because I _don't _want to kiss you. I wanted sex, and that what I'm getting. The rest of it fun, sure, but I don't even need that. Don't push me."

Dean shook his head, in dismay over how fast the mood in the room had changed, the sexual charge no longer there. "Whatever. Can you leave?"

"No."

His eyes narrowed. "Get out."

Castiel took an extra moment to rake his eyes over Dean's half-naked body, turning away with a shrug. "You lucky you hot."

Dean made to argue back, half of a word slipping passed his lips, but Castiel whirled around at the sound, his eyebrows arched high in a taunt, daring -just daring Dean to continue. His words fell flat the moment he received the look, and Castiel left with a satisfied smirk.

He was grumbling as he slipped on the new shirt, buttoning up the top few buttons of it before switching in to his pants, trading his nicer suit pants for khakis. He glared down at the article of clothing, upset at how awful they looked on him with his holsters hooked on underneath. They made his thighs look unevenly proportioned to the rest of his body.

There was nothing he could do about it, however, so he made his way down to the main foyer and back up to Viktor's office, receiving a nod of approval from both Castiel and his father, who was one the phone.

"I going in soon," he said as Dean took a seat beside Castiel on one of the chairs along the side of the room. It was the same one he'd been seated in when he was first brought in to this home. Viktor continued to talk as Castiel turned to Dean, leaning forward to get a good look at his face. He reached over, running his fingers through the front of his hair, spiking his bangs up. Dean shook his head, removing Castiel's hand, though the other just dropped his hands to unbutton the top two buttons on Dean's shirt.

He growled. "What are you doing? Are you _trying_ to make me look like a gay guy?" he muttered under his breath

"Well we going to gay club," was whispered back.

"What?"

Castiel blinked a few times. "I not sure how to explain more."

"_Why_ are we going to a gay club?"

"Father need to talk to owner."

"Can't he just call him?"

"It not work like that," Viktor explain, butting in to their conversation. He looked at the both of them as they sat up straighter, turning their attention to him. He handed Dean a fake ID, Castiel already had one. "You both have guns?" They nodded. "Good. Let's go."

Viktor strode from the room with Dean and Castiel in tow, not bothering to check that they were following.

"So how is this different than a business meeting… of sorts…"

He received no response.

Castiel's posture was more rigid than Dean was used to, and he recognized that stance. He was standing tall, head held high as he followed his father out in to what was essentially the front lines.

He was soldier. "Dude, will you answer me?" Whenever Dean thought he was actually close to him, he pulled something like this, refusing to answer Dean, following his father without question. "Dude?"

Still nothing.

When they arrived at the blacked-out SUV, Mychalla was in the front, ready to drive. Viktor stepped in, followed by Castiel in the back, then Dean, who grabbed Castiel's hand, insisting on an answer. "What are we doing?"

Castiel rolled his eyes, back stiff though he finally looked at Dean. "We going to club."

"What are we _doing_ at the club?"

"We bait."

"_What?_"

He received another eye-roll, but Castiel still hadn't taken his hand away, which he considered an improvement. In which way, he wasn't sure, but an improvement nonetheless.

"Not hard to understand," Castiel started. "We bait. He call us in to room, Father breaks in, it all go down, then go home."

Dean was staring with a blank expression, not gathering any of the information -or lack-thereof- that Castiel had attempted to provide. Viktor decided it was his turn to butt in. "All you do, Winchester, is… make out… with my son, wait until one of his men come and get you, then follow them in to back room… Just… follow my boy. When Castiel… _grinds_ you, you grind back." Viktor shook his head, not agreeing with the words slipping out of his mouth. "When Castiel take out gun, you take out gun. When Castiel shoot, you shoot. That all you need to know."

Dean shook his head. "I still don't understand. Why can't you just walk in there?"

"We not exactly… friends," Viktor explained. "More like ex-acquaintances. He cheat me out of money. I going to get it back."

"So I'm helping you rob someone?"

"Essentially."

"Great."

Castiel laughed quietly. "Don't worry. It be fun."

"Oh totally."

"You be fine. I done this… like four times."

"Won't they recognize you?"

"Maybe."

"That's comforting."

Castiel and his father laughed. "You be fine," they both said, their voices melding in to a deep harmony.

Dean gulped. "If you say so."

They pulled up around the side of the club. Dean could see the line as they passed, disappearing as they turned around a corner. He shook his head. "How're we gonna get in?"

"Wait," Mychalla supplied, parking the car along the back. He left it to idle as Viktor slid out of the car, Castiel followed by Dean in doing the same.

"You boys know what to do?" Castiel nodded, posture straight and stiff. Dean was less sure, but nodded just the same. "Good. Castiel, don't shoot to early. Dean… Don't shoot unless Castiel does."

Dean nodded. "But what if it's to protect Castiel?"

"You not need to protect him if all goes as planned. Don't give away what you're doing there, and don't break character."

"Character?"

"I show you later," Castiel said.

His father stepped to him, pulling him in to a hug. "Be safe."

"I will."

"Good boy." He broke the hug, kissing Castiel's temple before letting him turn to leave.

Dean made to follow after him, but Viktor clapped a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He looked over his shoulder at the man, waiting for an explanation.

"Wait." Dean did, not moving a muscle under Viktor's strong and heavy hand. The elder finally spoke after a few minutes. "You make sure my son stay safe." Dean nodded once. "He my blood. I can't lose him. Make sure he safe."

"I won't let him get hurt. I swear it."

Viktor clapped Dean's shoulder. "Good. Now go."

Dean turned and began to walk away, receiving a clap on his shoulder one last time as he moved just outside of Viktor's reach. The older man slid back in to the car, and the last time Dean looked back, he saw the SUV pulling away, turning around the far corner away from him.

This was it. This was when he had to go.

He took an extra moment to breathe and steady himself before rounding the corner, the knot in his stomach growing tighter and bigger the closer he got to the line. Castiel was a few spots ahead of him, and he looked back, winking before turning his attention back to the front.

Every three steps brought Dean one spot closer to the entrance of the club, and the music was growing progressively louder, the bass shaking through his body. He willed it to stop, for his body to calm down, but it did no such thing. It was a miracle he was able to give his ID to the man, who asked his name and birthdate with a questionable look.

"Steven Richardson. September seventh, nineteen-ninety two. Happy birthday to me."

The man looked down at the card before sending Dean a hard glare, but passed back the card, stepping aside to let him in. "Enjoy your… birthday, Steven."

"I'm sure I will."

It was dark in the club, lights in the center lighting up the room in stripes of pinks, greens, reds, and yellows, a deep-blue tint in the background faintly illuminating everyone. It wasn't hard to find Castiel, who was grinding his dick up against a smaller man's ass.

"That was fast," Dean muttered to himself, worming his way through the crowd of dancing people. Viktor's words of staying in character rang through Dean's ears, and he realized he wasn't actually supposed to know Castiel. He shrugged, still working his way to the other man.

When he reached him, he didn't stop, he just continued to walk, brushing his fingers low across Castiel's back, winking at him over his shoulder as Castiel turned his head to look at him.

Dean continued to walk, turning his attention away from Castiel, resulting in a shock as the other man came up behind him without warning, hands sliding low around his hips, pressing them back as he moved his own forward. Dean gasped as Castiel began to rock their hips to the beat, dropping his head down to nudge his nose against Dean's neck.

Dean covered Castiel's hands on his hips with his own. "You dove in to this pretty fast."

"The goal is to be really hot."

"I have a better idea than this."

"What's that?" he asked, kissing Dean's neck.

Dean turned around in Castiel's arms, draping his own around Castiel's neck as Castiel's hands tightened on his hips. They kept up with the beat of the song, Castiel grinding his hips forward in a roll, rolling them slightly back as Dean rolled his up. They followed that rhythm, periodically rolling their eyes around to see who was watching them.

"I feel a little uncomfortable doing this," Dean admitted after a few minutes.

"Why? Nothing worse than we do at home."

"Well, your dad's watching now."

"He came in?"

Dean gestured with a slight cock of his head toward the direction Castiel's father and Mychalla were standing. Castiel peered over at them, then smirked, turning his eyes back to Dean. "Want to make him really uncomfortable?"

"No."

"We going to."

Dean made to retort, but Castiel's fingers were impossibly tight around his hips, and he was grinding hard in to him, slowly leaning Dean's body back, taking complete control over the situation. The only thing Dean could do was wrap his arms tighter around Castiel's neck and moan as the other ground his hips in to his own without relent.

"Keep moaning like that," Castiel muttered, licking up Dean's neck, earning another moan that doubled in intensity as their hips ground together again. "It so sexy."

"You're so sexy."

"Good response."

Dean rolled his eyes over to look at Viktor, who was pointedly refusing to look over at the two of them. "Your dad's really protective over you, isn't he?" he asked as Castiel straightened their bodies back out, kissing Dean's jaw.

"That not sexy."

Dean dropped it, knowing better than to argue with the man who was currently sucking bruises in to his jawline. He moaned once and rolled his eyes over to Viktor, who was periodically checking up on them. "Your dad's watching again."

"So is someone else," Castiel responded, looking over in a direction behind Dean. "Let's take break."

Dean didn't have a chance to respond as Castiel was pulling away from him, grabbing his hand and dragging him over to one of the side areas up a few steps with large leather benches lining the walls and tables for drinks and other things. Castiel pushed Dean down on to one of the benches, and straddled his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Both of their breathing was hard, which was something Dean picked up on now that they were sitting, along with how turned on he was and how hard their heartbeats were. He could feel his own pumping in his ears and Castiel's doing just the same under his fingers from the hand he moved up to rest on his neck.

Castiel had a remarkably fast recovery time, Dean remembered once again, as Castiel began gently rolling his hips the moment Dean put his free hand down on his hip, the other hand still solidly on his neck.

"You know," Castiel said, voice breathy. "it pretty intimate with your hand on my neck."

"So?"

"Maybe take it off?"

"No."

"Dean."

"Only if you kiss me."

Castiel rolled his eyes and leaned in, kissing Dean's nose. "There."

"A little lower." Another eye-roll was delivered along with a kiss to his cheek. "Little over."

"You kidding me?" Dean didn't waver from where he was, his thumb rubbing lightly on Castiel's neck. Castiel clenched his jaw, taking a hand from behind Dean's neck, trying to pull his hand down, but Dean was strong, and Castiel couldn't do much more without breaking the rhythm of their hips. He sighed and wrapped his arm back around his neck, leaning in to kiss the corner of Dean's lips, moaning as he pulled away.

Dean bit his lip, though still didn't pull his hand away from his neck. "What was that about?"

"I like moaning."

"Clearly."

"Moan when I kiss your neck."

"Wh- Oh!" Castiel dropped his head, kissing Dean's neck, grinding his hips down harder than before, earning a small moan from himself as well.

Dean tilted his head up to kiss Castiel's jaw when the other pulled away from his neck, but it didn't last long as someone was tapping on Castiel's shoulder and Dean's hand moments later.

Castiel backed his face away from Dean's, putting some space between the two of them as he looked over his shoulder, never stopping the rhythm of their hips. "Yes?"

"The owner of the club would like to see you two personally."

"What for?" Castiel knew what he was doing, but Dean had no clue. He leaned forward to kiss at the back corner of Castiel's jaw, hoping to prevent himself from saying something wrong.

"Private… _show_," the man explained.

"What we have to do?" Castiel asked, gasping quietly at Dean's kisses.

"What you're already doing."

Castiel turned his attention to Dean, looking back at him, their lips now a fraction of an inch apart. He quirked an eyebrow in question, and Dean smirked back. "I'm in."

Castiel turned to look over his shoulder at the man again. "Okay." He looked back to Dean one more time, brushing their lips together. It was barely a hair-width of a press, but it still had Dean freezing, shivering as he tightened his hand on Castiel's neck, only for it to be dropped down as the other slid off his hips, grabbing his hand.

Dean stood on his feet, walking close to Castiel as they followed the man through the club toward the back, stopping outside a large door. The man rapped on the door, and Dean stepped even closer to Castiel, bringing his free hand up to run the back of his fingers down his neck.

"What are you doing," Castiel whispered back at him as he swirled his index finger around the small curl of hair behind his neck, watching the dark lock twist around his finger.

Dean didn't respond, just shuffling closer to kiss on the shell of his ear, attempting to ignore the uneasy sensation pooling in his stomach. Castiel made to retort back in whatever way he could, but the door in front of them opened and the man led them in.

Sitting in front of them, in the dead center of the back of the room, was a fairly thin, dark-skinned man, similar in height to Viktor, though Dean thought him to be a bit shorter. He had glasses perched on his nose, and a track suit on his body. He looked like a body-building nerd.

Beside the man were two chairs, one recently empty as the man sitting in it had gotten up, moving behind Dean as the man who led them in stepped behind Castiel. They stepped back, pressing themselves practically in to the wall, and Dean realized they weren't there to intrude, but to guard the man watching the two of them.

"You're very cute," the man said, raking his dark eyes over the pair of them. It made Dean uncomfortable, and he hoped it made Castiel feel just the same. He wasn't showing it, however, so Dean pulled up a stoic face as Castiel let himself relax in to a submissive one.

"You think I'm cute?" Castiel asked. Dean stepped up behind him, snaking his arms low around his hips, fingers slipping in to the front of his pants, nuzzling his nose in to his hair, inhaling deeply. Castiel shivered, and Dean pressed closer.

"Yeah. So does someone else."

Castiel smirked, rolling his eyes over to peer at Dean, though he saw nothing. "He's possessive," he added as Dean rolled his hips forward, pulling Castiel's back, grinding against his ass. Castiel gasped.

"That's hot."

Dean began to roll his hips forward at a slow pace, the fingers in Castiel's pants curling up slightly, brushing against a few hairs, causing Castiel to lull his head back completely, freeing his neck for Dean to work his lips over and hold on to with his free hand, the other still half in his pants.

"You're so sexy," Dean muttered against Castiel's neck, part in character, part lost in the other, enjoying the opportunity to take whatever control he could over the other man.

"Yes, you are," the man in the chair said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Dean pulled Castiel closer, grinding harder in to him, losing his character to his own inhibitions, wanting Castiel more and more with every kiss he pressed to his neck and every moan or whimper he received in return.

"What do you want us to do?" Castiel asked, finally able to calm himself enough to do so.

"Face each other."

It took a bit of persuasion on Castiel's part to get Dean to loosen his hold on him without breaking his submissive role, but he finally let go enough to turn their bodies to face each other. He immediately slid his hand back in to Castiel's pants, fingers resting over his ass. Castiel slid his own hand in to Dean's pants, doing the same to his ass. "Calm yourself," he whispered, tugging Dean close, pulling his earlobe between his teeth.

"It's hard. You really are sexy."

"I know," Castiel smirked, kissing Dean's jaw.

"Kiss each other," the man said, interrupting their nearly-silent conversation.

"Follow my moves," Castiel whispered quickly before pulling away from Dean's ear, the hand in the back of Dean's pants sliding completely in. Dean's eyes widened a fraction as Castiel began peppering kisses across his cheek and jaw, totally lost in what was happening until Castiel wrapped his fingers around the shaft of his gun, tugging it slightly before moving his fingers to the handle.

_Oh_.

Dean pulled Castiel closer in by sliding his hand down his pants as well, finding Castiel's gun. "Shoot at guy behind me-" Castiel started in a whisper, breaking his words with a kiss to the spot before Dean's ear. "-on my word."

Dean nodded once, and Castiel back his head up, slowly leaning in with slightly parted lips. Dean moved in just as slow, the air around them growing still with a mix of anticipation and fear, the latter mostly from Dean. Castiel's lips were just a breadth off of his when he whispered "Now.".

The both of them slid each other's guns out of their holsters and out of their pants, hugging each other close in order to get their hands over to the gun to balance it and aim. Castiel shot first, the recoil of his gun shaking his shoulders, knocking Dean's aim off a bit, his shot firing just a moment after Castiel's.

Castiel's shot was spot on, firing off at the man's throat, shooting straight through the soft skin and muscle. Red splattered on the wall behind him, and the man slammed to the ground, a pool of his blood forming around him quickly.

The man in the chair yelped, tucking his feet up in to his oversized chair ripping out his gun from the side of his chair as Dean's gun fired, shooting through the wrist of the man behind Castiel. His gun clattered to the ground with a sick crack as the bullet slammed in to his bone, blood spurting from the wound. Dean shot again, hitting him higher up in the arm, and then once more by his stomach, down by his hip.

The shot man let out a scream, falling to the ground, and Castiel and Dean broke apart, pressing their backs up to the nearest wall, Castiel pointing his gun at the man in the chair, shooting once to knock the gun out of the man's hand, Dean pointing his to the door, which was slammed open a minute later, Mychalla busting in, followed by Viktor. Mychalla turned his back to the man in the chair, watching the door.

"Where the fuck my money?" Viktor asked, strolling up to the man in his chair, stepping gracefully over the streams of blood flowing in from each side of the room, kicking the man's gun away before he could reach down to get it. Dean admired how cool he looked.

"What? I-"

"-Where the fuck my money?" Viktor asked again, cocking his gun.

"Fuck! I don't know!"

"You have it?"

"I… I-"

Viktor rolled his eyes, turning the gun to aim at the moaning man against the wall, shooting him in the head, silencing him for good. Dean felt a roll of terror slide through his body, thinking of how shockingly different these Novaks were to the ones he'd been living with. He let his eyes roam over the two dead bodies, and hoped there wasn't more outside the small room they were in now. "Where _your _money?"

"…The bank…"

Viktor roamed his eyes around the room before stepping forward, thrusting his hand forward against the other man's neck. "I want my money, Curtis! Give me my money!"

Sirens were faintly heard far in the distance, and Castiel snapped his eyes to his dad. "Father."

"I hear."

"I don't have it," the man -Curtis- breathed out.

"That's bullshit!" Viktor shouted, shooting his gun at the ceiling. The white panel above them rattled, and all in the room looked up as powered white caulk fell down in a stream, landing on Viktor's forearm, stark against the dark suit jacket he had on.

He blinked down at his arm, staring at the crumbled ceiling and powder now on his arm before blinking once again, rolling his eyes up to glare at Curtis. His eyes had the power of Castiel's, burning so hard in to the man that Dean felt uncomfortable just being in the same room. Viktor finally rolled his eyes away from Curtis and up to the ceiling, aiming his gun up to shoot once more, the shot ringing through the nearly silent room, bullet clattering up in the ceiling.

"What up there?" Viktor asked. Curtis didn't respond. He rolled his eyes, done dealing with the uncooperative man. He rolled his eyes to look back at Mychalla, gesturing for him to find out.

The bodyguard sent a look to Dean, telling him to move and guard the door as he walked over to one of the empty chairs, hopping up on the armrest of it, stretching up high to push the loose panel. Shoving it hard a few times knocked it completely loose, sending it up into the empty room, the contents inside spilling down.

Three bags tumbled to the floor. Viktor stepped back to avoid being hit with the falling sacks. One of the bags had two holes through it, presumably from Viktor, and white streams poured from each hole. All looked on curiously as the man dropped to one knee, dipping his fingers in the white powder, rubbing them together slowly as he brought them closer to see.

He narrowed his eyes, pushing himself to his feet quickly, grabbing the two undamaged bags. He tossed one at Castiel, who nearly dropped his gun in an attempt to catch the bag. Viktor slung the other over his shoulder. "We need to go."

"And where do you think you're going?" Curtis asked, making an attempt to stand.

Viktor shot his thigh. "Anywhere but here." He turned to his group. "We need to go." He began walking, Mychalla following after him. Dean waited for Castiel to go before following him as well. Sending one look back to the two dead men on the ground, their deep blood streaked across the floor, Curtis' wound now adding to the pool.

Dean bumped himself in to Castiel, who was stopped in front of his father in the nearly empty main room of the club, the only bodies left in there being dead ones. Dean swallowed hard. "You and Dean go out back. You go out back, and you run."

"Where you going?" Castiel asked. Dean could see the worry cautiously worming its way on to his face -something Dean never thought he'd witness- and it flooded him with fear.

"We just going. I see you tonight Castiel, I promise." Viktor paused, the sirens growing progressively louder. "You need to go."

"Fathe-"

"-Go!"

Castiel clenched his jaw, his eyes growing hard and stoic once again. He nodded, hitching the bag up higher on his shoulder before beginning to run toward the back exit of the club. Dean followed after him without much more of a question, looking back over his shoulder at Viktor and Mychalla, who were running toward one of the side exits.

Castiel shoved through the heavy door, and Dean followed after him. The bag was smacking hard against Castiel's body, but his legs continued pumping hard, practically sprinting down the sidewalk in the complete opposite way of the club, winding his way through back alleys, never once showing any sign of tiring. Dean followed after him, mentally encouraging himself to continue, despite the burning in his thighs and how much his calves just wanted to give out and let his body collapse to the ground to rest.

Their breathing was hard, and Dean had no clue as to how long they'd been running, but he knew the area, and realized they were just a few blocks away from the shoreline. He could see the glow of the water, and he hoarsely called forward to Castiel. "Water's ahead."

"I know."

Dean could hear the sirens in the background still, and realized that while not all of the cruisers were chasing after them, there still were a few. "How do they-" Dean took the deepest breath he could manage, his lungs protesting. "-know we're going this way?"

"Searching."

They were nearing the final block before the body of water, and Castiel took a quick turn angling himself toward one of the piers. The sirens were getting progressively louder, and Dean realized that as hard as they ran, the police were still faster. Castiel was running hard, the bag flinging absurdly around his body, but he still didn't slow, sprinting himself straight toward the pier.

Their feet his the solid wood, and soon they were over the water, running down the runway. Dean blinked a few times. "There's not a boat at the end-" A breath. "is there?"

"Nope."

"We jumping?"

"Yep."

A squelch of tires were heard about four blocks to the left of them, and both looked over to see bright lights flashing as the vehicle sped toward them. Their eyes widened, and they began to run as fast as their legs could carry them, and for once, Dean was grateful for the forced runs Mychalla had taken him on to build up his stamina.

The cruisers were a little under two blocks away, and Dean was just a few steps behind Castiel, who launched himself over the edge of the fence surrounding the pier, launching over with such grace that Dean lost himself in it for just a few moments, distracted enough to mistime his jump, catching his hips as he dove over the fence. He flipped over the edge, yelping as he went over, his back meeting the water first as he flailed recklessly on his way down.

The water exploded up around him, and he struggled underwater to turn himself around and swim back up, his clothes billowing around him, the front of his shirt nearly blocking his way of sight.

A hand wrapped around his wrist, and he was being tugged to the surface. Castiel was kicking hard, and Dean shook his shoulders, getting his shirt off his face before finally realizing it had been Castiel who pulled him up.

"Come on," he said, dropping Dean's wrist, beginning to swim as fast as he could under the pier as the police cars squelched on their brakes, skidding to a stop on the road leading up to the extension over the water. Dean could see some of them running as close as they could to the fence surrounding the steep drop-off in to the water, pulling out their guns.

"Swim faster," Dean warned, going as absolutely fast as he could while still keeping an eye on the men aiming their guns. A few shots were fired, and he felt his heart drop. "They're gonna catch us," he breathed, swimming faster and closer to Castiel, rounding up on his side. The bullets were whizzing passed them in the water, a few nicking on Dean's shirt and shoes, ripping small holes in the cloth.

"No they won't."

Castiel was sorta right. There really wasn't much of a way for them to be captured after they were completely under the part of the pier going in to the land unless the police surrounded them and a few swam in after them. That wasn't really good enough, however, and the closer they got to land, the closer the police's bullet came to them, whizzing just millimeters passed Dean's body..

"I'm not sure about th- SHIT!" A bullet shoot straight across Dean's biceps, cutting open a large gauge that salt water filled immediately, stinging his skin and the wound. Dean looked down to see blood beginning to cloud around his arm, but shook his head and shook it off, biting his lip, drawing blood as he continued to swim, every movement sending a revolting shock of pain through him.

Castiel hadn't seemed to have payed too much attention to him, just continuing to swim as fast as he could, though he stopped to wait for Dean once he got about five feet from the solid cement wall. "Take deep breath. Swim straight down, and go through hole. Don't worry, you fit. Just… take deep breath, okay?" Dean nodded, clutching at his arm. Castiel look at it briefly before nodding himself. "Okay."

It took him another moment, but Castiel was sucking in a deep breath of air before diving straight down, kicking hard to propel himself under. Dean watched him go down, taking one last look at his arm before sucking in a breath, following Castiel down just the same.

The other swam near to the bottom, squirming himself through a hole barely big enough for his body. Dean looked on cautiously, the best he could through the cracks he allowed his eyes to peer through, but decided his only option was to go through. He kicked hard, getting down to the edge, where he reached out and pulled himself through. The sharp edges of the rocks scratched and pulled at his skin, and he felt his wound tear open wider as it hook on a jagged piece of the moss-covered stone.

He yelped, letting all of the air out in his lungs, but he couldn't stop. He kicked harder, fitting through the hole, straining desperately to get to the surface on the other side.

When his face broke the surface, he sucked in desperate gulps of air, flailing to keep himself afloat as he regained feeling in his limbs, his lungs calming from the strain they'd been under, his eyes adjusting to the near pitch darkness. There were a few cracks in the cement wall, letting light flood in from outside, illuminating the water beneath them, casting faded designs on the the roof of what Dean could only call a cave.

"Where are we?" Dean asked quietly, though his voice echoed around, making him sound as though he hadn't muted his voice at all.

"Found this when I was kid. It uh… hiding spot."

Dean whipped himself around in the pool of sea water and his own blood, looking for Castiel. "Where are you?"

Castiel stretched off from where he had himself perched, his breathing still a bit hard as he tried to calm himself down, holding his hand out to Dean, who gladly took it. Castiel guided him to the rock, and Dean clambered up on in clumsily, falling flat down on his face as soon as he could.

He was given a minute to relax before Castiel was poking at him. "Roll over, Dean. I need look at your arm."

"You can't even see in here."

"I figure it out."

His voice was serious, and despite his desire to stay exactly where he was, and how much his muscles screamed in protest, he rolled over. Castiel was immediately observing his arm, getting as close as he could to it.

"Shit."

Dean looked at him. "What?"

"That fucked up."

"Yeah, thanks."

Castiel shook his head, sitting up, reaching forward to tug up on Dean's shirt, getting him to take it off. He put it under his back to pad himself from the rocks. Dean watched him as he took off his own, ripped it in half without a second thought, and rung out as much of the water soaked in to it as he could before wrapping it around Dean's arm. It wasn't tight enough for him to loose his arm should it be on too long. The salt water once again stung the wound, but the makeshift bandage was as good as they were going to get.

"That the best I can do. It not seem to hurt too bad…" he offered, his voice raising in a tone of consolation.

"I think I'm in shock."

The two of them were silent for a minute as Dean adjusted to the new pain, and Castiel adjusted to the cold rolling over his body.

Dean reached out to put a hand on his knee. "Thank you." Castiel nodded once, his body shivering, and Dean narrowed his eyes. "You're cold."

"So?"

"Come here."

"I am here."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You're so fucking difficult." He patted his chest a few times. "Come _here_."

"Why?"

"So I can keep you warm." He reached across his body to grab Castiel's hand, tugging hard enough to get him to move. The other was stubborn, though eventually moved, draping himself strangely over Dean.

Dean sighed and adjusted their bodies, pressing their chests together, wrapping his arms around Castiel, spreading his hands out wide across his narrow back. He could feel his muscles contracting, shivers rolling through his body, and despite the other's reluctance to do the same, Dean held him close.

After a few minutes of hard shivering, Castiel finally responded, worming his arms around Dean the best he could without pinning them between their bodies and the rocks below.

"Doesn't this hurt you?"

"A little. Not much."

Castiel relaxed his head against Dean's chest, finally giving in to what was happening. "Then why you doing it?"

"To keep you warm," Dean explained, shivering once himself.

"That pretty stupid thing to deal with pain for."

Dean shrugged. "It's worth it."

They lay in silence for nearly two hours, the only sound was their breathing, or the occasional shift on the rocks. Neither of them were really wet anymore, but Castiel made no effort to move, and Dean never dropped his arms from around him.

"I have joke," Castiel muttered against Dean's chest, lips brushing across his skin.

"Do you?"

Castiel nodded. "Okay. Why does chicken coop have only two doors?"

Dean thought for a minute, then shook his head. "I don't know."

"If had four, it be a chicken sedan." He laughed quietly. "I have another."

"Okay."

"What do you call a fly with no wings?"

"I… I don't know."

"A walk," Castiel said quietly, laughing a bit once again.

Dean smiled, laughing a bit, his body shaking Castiel with him. "Oh god."

Castiel smiled against his skin. "I have another."

"You have more?" Castiel nodded. "Then do it."

"Ask me if I'm a tree."

"What?"

"Ask me if I'm a tree."

"I-" Dean shook his head. "…Are you a tree?"

"No."

It was dead silent in the cave. The serious tone of Castiel's voice and the lack of movement from him had Dean shaking with disbelief at the absurdity of the joke. Castiel grinned against Dean's skin, chuckling deeply, his eye squinting shut as Dean's laugh grew louder, echoing around the cave.

"It not even that funny," Castiel said between his huffs, but Dean didn't care, laughing loud and carefree, Castiel shaking on top of him with every contraction of his lungs and abdomen, his hands sliding inch by inch across his back, the warmth in his body resonating through Castiel, heating every inch of his body.

Their laughter died off after a while, and pleasant silence took over once more. "How your arm feel?" Castiel asked after a few minutes.

"Really fucking weird."

"How?"

"I mean, there's a hole in my arm… so, that's pretty new."

Castiel huffed. "Why haven't you said anything?"

"It wasn't really on my mind. I had something else to focus on."

"What that?"

Dean rolled his eyes, a hint of a grin on his lips. "Not telling you."

"Why not?"

"Not happening."

"Tell me."

"What I was thinking about?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Tell me," Castiel said, pushing himself completely on top of Dean, moving to straddle his hips. Dean's hands followed his back.

"Nope."

"Tell me, Winchester." He leaned in, running one of his hands up and through Dean's hair.

"It'll make things weird."

Castiel laid back down on him, resting his chin on his chest. "Tell me."

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?" Castiel shook his head no. Dean rolled his eyes up to the top of the cave. "Fine. I was just…" He tapped his thumbs along his spine. "thinking about how nice it was to be holding you."

Castiel was still looking up at Dean and they locked eyes for a brief moment before Castiel was turning to rest his cheek on Dean's chest again, worming a bit higher up on his body.

It was another few hours before anyone came for them. It was a shock to have the water break so suddenly in the silence of the cave, but the two of them flew apart the moment the first splash came, Castiel moving to the deserted duffle bag on the other side away from them, Dean groaning in pain at moving his arm so suddenly and broadly.

"It me!" Mychalla said, taking a few deep breaths as he continued to tread in the water, holding his flashlight up to look around. "Your father said you'd probably be here."

"He okay?" Castiel asked.

"Just fine. We need to go."

"Why?" Castiel asked, simply out of curiosity. He was more than ready to leave.

"Can't have idle car sit for too long."

Castiel nodded, immediately crawling toward the water. He grabbed the remnants of his shirt and tossed Mychalla the bag, who was waiting with open arms to catch it. Dean followed suit, grabbing his shirt as well, hissing with every movement.

Mychalla noticed. "What wrong with him?"

"He injured."

Castiel slid into the freezing water of the night, and Dean did so as well, hissing hard at the sting of the water hitting his wound, despite that it was covered.

"Then we better get back soon. Come on."

Mychalla had the bag around him, so he dove down first. "You okay?" Castiel asked, waiting for a quick nod from Dean before following the other down. Dean took a moment to still himself, trying to push away the stinging pain before taking a deep breath, driving down as well.

It was like a chain, swimming through the hole again, and Dean was sure not to brush his bad arm against the jagged rocks as he passed through, surfacing up right beside Castiel. They followed Mychalla back to the shore and over to the waiting car. Another man was in the drivers seat, so Castiel and Dean sat in the back, their soaking clothes drenching the car around them.

Mychalla shifted in his seat, looking at Dean. "Let me see injury." Dean held out his arm, earning an eye roll from both men looking at him.

"You need take this off," Castiel said, reaching out to untie the cloth he had around the wound. It was nearly completely soaked with blood, and Mychalla's eyes widened at the sight.

"Holy shit. We need get you to hospital." The man driving changed his route without question, driving to the nearest hospital. "That bullet wound?"

Dean nodded. "From the police. It happened in the water."

Mychalla pulled a face. "Hope that not get infected. That nasty. I can see muscle."

"That's really comforting."

"Why aren't you screaming in pain?"

"In shock," both Castiel and Dean said at the same time, turning to look at each other.

"I think when it starts to hurt, my body just falls right back in," Dean explained, not looking away from Castiel, who was watching his with large eyes.

"That not good," Mychalla said, looking up as they arrived at the hospital. "We need get you in now."

Castiel hopped out of the car, taking Dean's hand to guide him in, though made no effort to drop it the moment they were inside.

What a sight they must have been, Dean assumed. A group of four men, three of which were soaking wet, two holding hands, and one with a ripped open bullet wound, all calmly waiting for someone to assist them.

It happened quickly in Dean's eyes. He was standing upright, Castiel right beside him when his vision began to grow blurry, speckled back filling in the corners as his legs began to wobble. The voices around him were garbled, and the only thing he could feel was Castiel's hand tightening around his own before his legs collapsed, and he fell on the floor with black in his sights.

When he awoke, he was in a hospital bed, an IV in his arm, stitches in his wound, and blankets over his body. He groaned. "What happened?" he asked, not expecting a reply.

"You passed out, they fixed you up, now you stuck here for another two hours before can go home," Mychalla responded.

Dean blinked blearily over at him. "You're here?" he asked, not disappointed, just confused.

The man nodded. "Had to take Castiel home. He asleep." Mychalla laughed quietly. "He not want to leave you, and then not want to rest once home. Alona gave him sleep pills."

Dean laughed a bit. "_Really_ didn't want to leave then, huh." Mychalla shook his head, and Dean cleared his throat. "Can I have some water?"

"Sure." He walked over to the sink in what Dean was just noticing was a private room, filling a paper cup to bring to the other.

Dean took it gratefully, downing the liquid. "Thank you," he said, relaxing back on to the bed when he was done with the drink. "Do I really have to be here two hours?"

Mychalla nodded, and Dean groaned. "What, you want go home?" Dean nodded. "I see what I can do.

He could do a lot, as 40 minutes later found he and Mychalla walking out of the hospital on the promise that Dean wouldn't do much of anything once he was home, which he planned to stick to.

He trudged up the huge stairwells up to his room, peeking in to Castiel's room on the way. It was nearing one in the morning, and Castiel was out hard. Dean quirked up the corner of his lips, eyes roving over the sleeping mass of man with wild hair and squeezed-shut eyes, before roaming in to his room, stripping his clothes off completely before collapsing on his bed, just barely able to curl in to his blankets before falling asleep, the day's events wearing on him harder than before.

And also the drugs.

* * *

**So the club scene was sorta based off of Date Night when they go to the club and they're grinding on the pole and shit trying to get over to the broom guy... yeah. Sorry if it seems a bit unrealistic. I'm 17. I don't go clubbing.**

**Anyway, sorry this took so long. I was so super busy, and then I wasted my time on tumblr, and wow. Sorry.**

**Let me know what you think of this so far! Also the new chapter's on the way, as in I've already started writing it, so... not so long a wait this time...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Pretty fluffy chapter, I guess**

* * *

Dean was alone when he woke, though it felt as though a body was pressed against his own the way his pillows were squished in to him, his blankets wrapped entirely around his body. He felt sticky. Sticky and sleep bogged, but there really wasn't much he could do about the later.

Untangling himself from his blankets, he found his feet barely able to keep him up as he turned and stood, his head swimming, his body rocking, though he didn't fall. "Fuck," he muttered, voice sleep-scratchy and dry, his mouth feeling empty and barren as he padded in to his bathroom, pulling the tab on the faucet in his bathtub beside the shower, letting the water run over his fingers until it was warm enough before turning to get a cup of water from his sink.

He recalled, briefly, the instructions he'd been given the night before: Sleep, shower without the bandages on, and put the stinging ointment on the stitches before wrapping his arm back up in a clean wrap.

With a sigh, he looked down at the steaming water, to his stitches, back to the water, and around again to the stitches, looping between the two as he tentatively stepped in to the tub, letting his legs and feet adjust as the water rose up around him.

It was about mid-calf when he sat down, hissing at the hot water as he shut off the stream, leaning back against curved wall of the tub, submerging his arm. He yelped and brought his fist up to his mouth, trying to keep calm as the water felt as though it was boiling his skin, burning through it from the inside out.

"Holy shit," he breathed out, writing in the tub, refusing to give up on getting his arm to adjust, dunking it further under. "Shit. Shit. Shit fuck shit shit shit."

"Not heard that out of mouth since that one time I not let you come."

"Jesus christ!" Dean muttered, curling in on himself as he rolled on his side, the water covering his cheek. "Why? Why are you in here?"

Castiel was leaning against the doorframe to his bathroom, playing with a washrag he'd grabbed from the counter beside him. "Not think you be so disappointed to see me."

"I'm not. It's just-" Dean rolled back to face up again, still squinting his eyes as the hard and consistently stinging pain. "Why?"

"Mychalla heard water running, realized he forgot to give this-" he held up some ointment or antibacterial of some sort along with fresh gauze. "I offered to bring to you."

"Thanks," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes to peer at Castiel as he set the objects down on the sink, turning to lean back against it as he watched Dean.

"You okay?"

"Not really."

"It hurt?" Dean nodded, biting his lip. The corner of Castiel's lip quirked up as he took a step forward, dropping gently down to his knees. "Maybe," he started, voice soft. "all you need is distraction. He reached forward, cupping his hand around Dean's cheek, his impossibly long fingers covering his his whole face, tracing up in to his damp hair.

The solid warmth of hand was comforting nearly immediately, and Dean turned his face to lean in to his hand. He closed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Distracting you," Castiel said, leaning in to kiss Dean's cheekbone. He sat back again. "Look at me."

Dean peeked open his eyes, only to be met with the most incredible sight. Castiel's eyes were soft, and warm, and more gentle and sweet than Dean had ever seen them be, lit up the way such gorgeously shaded eyes should be. A light smile was on his lips, and he looked as though he were glowing.

"Wow…" Dean whispered, unable to look away.

Castiel's face fell a fraction. "What?"

Dean shook his head, leaning imperceptibly more into Castiel's hand. "It's… It's nothing."

"Tell me."

Dean shook his head. Castiel leaned in closer. Dean closed his eyes. It was almost too much to take in. "It'll make things weird."

"Tell me."

"...You look like an angel."

"Then why you not looking?"

"You never look at angels. Their beauty and power will fill you and blind you with bliss and awe, and for that one sweet moment, it's all worth it, but then the world goes dark, and there's nothing more. It's… too much."

"That very nice."

"It's from my favorite book."

Castiel was quiet for a moment. "It sound good coming from you." He fell silent again. "Look at me."

Dean hesitated, but cracked open his eyes. Castiel was closer than he'd been before, eyes boring in to Dean's with the light and gentle glow that'd been there before. Dean lost himself in them without any restraint, not willing himself to blink from fear of missing just a moment of this new and most likely fleeting Castiel.

"You're an angel," he whispered, bringing one of his hands out of the water to cover Castiel's on his cheek.

"Not quite." Castiel waited a moment, letting Dean enjoy his last moments before pulling his hand away, letting his face fall back to normal as he sat back up. "Your arm feel better?"

Dean nodded, not really noticing the stinging pain anymore. "Much."

"Good." He pushed himself to his feet. "I see you later, okay?"

"I'm holding you to that."

"I know."

With that he was gone, and Dean couldn't deny the sense of longing that filled his body and the simple desire to have Castiel back in there with him, holding him in the warm water. But not even that completely, just willing him to be back in the room, with his face still alight with all the beauty he just wanted more of.

He sighed and dunked his head underwater.

Deeming himself clean enough after a good long soak, Dean pressed the tab down on the faucet, opening the drain, sitting as the water slowly slipped away from around him, only standing up to dry off when the tub was down to nothing more than a lukewarm puddle.

The fluffy towels the Novaks owned were always a welcome object, Dean more than willing to wrap the soft linen around his body, soaking himself dry in a mater of seconds, or so it seemed. He managed to pull on a fresh pair of boxers before he was stumbling over to his bed, collapsing down on it with a fresh pack of gauze and the ointment that smelled faintly of mint.

He gave himself a moment of rest before unscrewing the cap, dabbing the ointment over the stitches. It hurt far less than what he was anticipating.

The bandages were another story.

"God fucking damnit! Wrap! Fuck." Dean was attempting to wrap his arm, but with every movement, the bandage slipped down or off or completely unravelled around his arm. He threw it to the ground. "Fuck this."

"Having trouble?"

Dean snapped his eyes to the doorway, where Castiel was leaning on the frame. "You always have a way of showing up when I need you."

"I make it goal of mine." Castiel knocked himself off of the frame, strolling over to Dean. He grabbed the bandage off of the floor, stopping in front of Dean, reaching forward. His fingers wrapped around his arm, down by his elbow, pulling it up and away from his body to allow him space to wrap the gauze.

Dean stretched his fingers to brush against Castiel's side, and Castiel rolled his eyes up to look at him, fingers deftly wrapping his bandage. "What you doing?"

"Trying to get you to come closer."

Castiel didn't budge until he was done with Dean's arm, only stepping a fraction closer to let the other's fingers touch him, guiding him in.

Dean tugged him in the best he could, fingers worming over his hip, moving him forward inch by inch until he had no other choice but to sit on his lap, moving forward with his knees on either side of Dean's hips. He reached up, cupping Dean's jaw, turning his head just enough to brush his lips against his cheekbone.

"Why're you being so sweet to me?" Dean asked as Castiel continued to pepper gentle kisses across his cheeks and nose.

"Don't use that word."

"Why are you?"

Castiel pulled back to look in Dean's eyes. "… I know you swim in front of me to protect from bullets."

Dean was quiet. "How'd you figure that out?"

"You struggling hard to keep beside me. And your eyes."

Dean shrugged. "My eyes?" He shook his head. "It's my job."

"You not have to do what you did." He kissed his forehead, cupping the sides of his jaw with both hands. "Thank you."

"I don't need thanks."

Castiel tilted Dean's jaw up. "You sure?"

"I'm not sure what you…" But Castiel's lips were against his and his body stilled and filled with the light he'd seen just an hour before as his plump lips locked on his own and Dean couldn't even react, his body going numb and tingly, the only thing on his mind; Castiel's lips.

The kiss was broken and Dean whined without trying, the sound escaping from his throat on its own. "…Angel…" His hands clamped down on to Castiel's hips and his eyes peeled open, only to see Castiel pushing himself away. He refused to let go of his hips. "Don't leave."

"I have to."

"You're an angel."

Castiel broke his hips free. "Not quite."

Dean wanted to follow him as he walked away, every bone and muscle in his body straining in an attempt to get him to move, but something was holding him back, and he could do nothing more than twitch as he watched him walk across the hall into his room, closing the door behind him.

His muscles seemed to snap on him after a few minutes of blank staring, wanting the light and glory from his kiss and touch to be back in him and he couldn't wait anymore. He stood and marched over to Castiel's room, catching the other reading a book on his bed.

He grabbed the set of frayed pages and threw them across the room, the book fluttering to the ground as it hit a wall, but Dean didn't care, crawling half over Castiel, cupping his face and kissing him with all he had.

The light swelled back in him again, and he had to force himself to not give in to it, to lose his sense to it. He focused on holding Castiel's face, and touching Castiel's lips, and the brush of whatever body parts touched as they moved together, Castiel covering Dean's hands with his own.

"Dean," he managed to breathe, breaking the kiss.

"No," Dean said back, kissing him again. He wasn't done. He'd never be done.

"Dean." Castiel broke the kiss again, but Dean was having none of it.

"No, Cas. I'm not going to stop. I'm not going to stop, like you're gonna ask me to do, because I want this. I _need _this, and I know you. You're gonna tell me we have to stop this, that it can't go on. Well I don't want to stop it, Cas." He kissed him again. "I don't want to stop it."

"Then don't."

"What?"

Castiel was looking up at Dean, expecting him to formulate an answer to his own question, as though it were as obvious as the darkness of night or the stars in the sky. Dean gaped. "Are you… You saying that… you want… more? With us?"

Castiel blinked. "Depend on what mean by 'more'."

"I mean," Dean started, rolling of of Castiel and on to his side, squishing in to the bed beneath him, hands never leaving Castiel's face, who turned his body to look at him. "I mean, we can do this. I can… you know, kiss you, whenever, wherever. And hold your hands. And… sleep, with you."

"That sound like relationship."

"It kind of is."

"You know how feel about that."

"But Cas." He kissed him, and his body felt alight once again. "Don't think of it as a relationship. Think of it as… Friends with _extra _benefits. Doesn't all of that sound… nice?" He bumped their noses together. "Hmm?"

"This not me."

"But it could be." He kissed him once more, and felt the other relax in his hands and under his lips. "You might really enjoy being with me. Can't we try?"

Castiel shook his head, but it wasn't a no. "I need think about it."

"When will you tell me?"

"Tonight."

Dean kissed Castiel one last time, making it count, focusing just on his lips and soft they were underneath his own and how they shifted in time with Dean's and how perfect kisses from Castiel were.

"I'll see you tonight, then."

Castiel nodded, but didn't move his hands from Dean's, leaning in to his touch for just a moment before he closed his eyes and turned his face away the best he could. Dean took that as a sign for him to go.

Pushing himself up and over Castiel the best he could to turn himself to the open end of the bed without actually letting go of Castiel proved more difficult than intended, but he did it, kissing Castiel's cheek one last time, sliding his hand out from under Castiel's as he stepped away and slid off the bed, moving to the doorway, never taking his eyes off of Castiel, who was watching him just as steadily as he was watching him.

It took a moment, but he was able to break their locked gazes, turning himself around to leave the room, stumbling back in to his own numbly to get some clothes on his body before making his way downstairs and in to the dojo, as he'd grown to call it.

Mychalla came in after hearing a good bit of grunting and whining and thuds on the ground from Dean losing his balance.

"What you doing? You need rest."

"I don't want it." He turned to him. "Take me on a run."

"No."

"Then I'll go on my own."

"No."

He agreed eventually, taking Dean on a short and slow jog around the paths inside the protective fence, only running about a quarter, if even, of their normal distance. Dean wouldn't admit it, but he was grateful for that, more than willing to shower quickly once again, making his way downstairs to explore the house on his own for the first time since he moved in.

He came across a large room that looked to be a theater of some sort, with a huge couch that seemed to be made out of chairs, though decided that wasn't quite so when he tried to pull one away. He blinked at it, plopping down in the dark leather that melded in to the rest of the dark flooring and decorations in the house.

"Ohh, that's nice," he moaned out as he reclined in the pseudo-chair, lolling his head lazily around the room, realizing that it was the first time he was really able to relax since he'd woken up, though kissing Castiel had nearly the same effect when it was happening, despite the electricity flowing through him from it.

He thought back to those kisses as he reached out for what looked like a remote, lazily pressing the red button on the top. Panels in the wall slid apart, and possibly the largest television Dean had ever seen was pushed out of the now-exposed space. "Cool," he muttered, flipping through the DVD menu. He chose the only one that wasn't from before 2007, some cartoon Disney movie he'd only seen because of Sam.

With a stretch, he relaxed completely on the chair, curling himself in to it as the familiar overtones of the movie echoed quietly in the dim room. He didn't focus on them, though, just the tingle beneath his lips as he remembered just how it felt to kiss the man presumably upstairs, a sense of longing resonating through his body like ripples in a puddle.

He was unaware he'd fallen asleep until he woke up later surrounded by people, the end of the movie coming up. Castiel was in the seat he was facing, Alona in the other on his side, Viktor and what Dean assumed to be some of Alona's friend spread out around them. Dean blinked a few times. "Wha-"

"Shhh," Alona hushed, smacking Dean's thigh. He jumped a bit closer to Castiel, who was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

He didn't make another sound until the movie was over, and Alona was smiling with glee. "Oh, that my favorite movie."

"We know," one of the girls behind Dean said.

"You make us watch like, once a month," Castiel supplied, standing up and stretching, raising his hands high above his head, arching back with quiet squeaks coming from with mouth every inch he pulled himself.

He dropped his arms suddenly, letting his fingers drop down to brush through Dean's hair, looking back at him through the corner of his eyes. Dean watched him without relent, only breaking eye contact to drag his eyes down his body. He smiled to himself, remembering all he'd done to the body, and Castiel let a hint of a smile on to his lips at the same thing.

"Time for dinner," Viktor said as he made to leave, pushing himself out of the deep leather chair with a groan. "Don't be too long," he said to Dean, though gave a look to Castiel, telling him the same thing.

The girls filed out of the room, there were about seven of them, and Viktor followed along, leaving Castiel and Dean alone.

Castiel held out his hand. "Come on. We need go to dinner." Dean grabbed his hand, but linked their fingers together, not bothering to get up. Castiel frowned. "Come on, Dean."

"I want you."

"I know." He tugged on his hand. "Come on."

"Kiss me?"

"No."

"Kiss me."

Castiel didn't move, just tugged on Dean's hand again. "Come on."

Dean plopped himself out of the chair and on the the floor, crouching up on to his knees before getting to his feet. He stepped to Castiel, holding their hands between their bodies, cupping his cheek. "Only if you kiss me."

"I kiss you once and you think it free will to my lips." Dean pouted, and Castiel rolled his eyes, leaning in to peck Dean's lips. "I admit. Kissing you feel pretty okay."

Dean smiled. "Just imagine how it makes me feel."

Castiel shook his head and stepped back, turning away and walking, not dropping Dean's hand until they were out of the room.

"Why were all of you guys in there?" Dean asked as they walked, trying to pretend like nothing had just happened, similar to how Castiel was acting, but the tingle on his lips and through his fingers told a different story.

"Alona heard movie and drag us there. You out cold, so we restart, watch, and then you wake up."

"Family movie night with a sleeping bodyguard?"

"Pretty much," Castiel laughed, and Dean couldn't help but to smile. He loved his laugh.

They walked into the dining room, and Alona was talking animatedly with one of the other girls, the one who had spoken up back in the theater room. "I can not understand you! Why you say that to him?"

"He stupid, Alona! He hit on me yet say he love you! You see what wrong there?"

"You lie, Anna."

"She tell truth," another girl butted in. Her hair was long and dark, braided off to one side.

"Shut up, Rachel."

Dean looked at Castiel as they sat down. "Are those two of your other sisters?"

Castiel nodded. "They got home in morning. It was… interesting. Rachel very surprised such a cute boy in house."

"She thinks I'm cute?"

"Super fucking hot, if you want know."

Dean choked. "Are you serious?"

"Would I lie?"

"Look," the girl Anna said, breaking their conversation. "There's Rachel's crush."

"I not have crush!"

"You say he super fucking hot," Alona butted in.

"Language!" Viktor called from the end of the table.

"Fuck off, you let Castiel cuss," Anna said, and Viktor rolled his eyes with a sigh.

Castiel shrugged. "You do let me cuss."

"I know."

Dean smiled, and let his eyes drift over to the girls. He recognized a few of them as Alona's friends he'd met when he first moved in, but two of them were new. Rachel was looking at him, ignoring the others girls to send him a flirty smile.

He sent half of one back.

Dinner was brought out just a minute later, and the whole group of them was eating just as soon. they had the beef and soup they'd had the first night Dean was there, and it honestly felt like a fresh new beginning to him, everything repeating itself over from their meal to the newness of everyone at the table.

Not that he was complaining. The meat was delicious.

They'd slowed down their pace of eating, down to just random pieces of meat and bread, and Dean hadn't really noticed how close Castiel had gotten until their arms were brushing with every movement.

Everyone was deep in some form of conversation or another, and Castiel took the opportunity to lay his hand on Dean's thigh, rubbing slowly and gently from the heat on the inside to the out, his thumb very to near to the v in his thighs.

Dean wouldn't admit how much it was effecting him just to have him touching him, and how weird it was for these sensations to be growing over a day, recalling that he'd never really felt this way before because of his touch.

He covered Castiel's hand on his thigh, and the corner of the other's lips quirked up for a quick second, falling just a moment later as he pulled his hand away. Dean tried not to frown.

Castiel blinked. "Lose the face," he whispered to him, reaching forward to grab his drink, downing what was in it. He stood up, his chair scratching across the floor behind him. "I want watch another movie."

Viktor sighed. "You had long day yesterday. You sure?" Castiel nodded, looking over to the girls for confirmation.

Rachel smiled at Dean again, waggling her fingers. "I'm in for movie."

Castiel looked questioningly to Dean. He shrugged. "Sure."

"Okay. You can watch movie bu-"

"Thank you, daddy!" Rachel said, pushing herself up from the table. "I want watch horror."

"Okay," Castiel said, brushing his fingers against Dean's shoulder. "Let's go."

Dean stood up, following Castiel out closely, hoping for just a moment alone to steal another kiss from him. But hoping was too much. The girls followed after just a moment later, and Rachel was right by his side within a few steps. Castiel gave him a look, but Dean couldn't do much of anything.

"What your name?" Rachel asked, walking far closer than was necessary.

"Uhhh, Dean. And you're Rachel?"

A nod "I Rachel. So, Dean. Can I sit with you?"

She sure was persistent. Dean looked at Castiel quickly. "Uhhh, sure."

"Cool," she said. Dean wasn't really sure how old she was, but it was definitely much older than himself. She was pretty, however, though it didn't matter to Dean. He took another quick moment to look at Castiel, who's fingers were so close to his own, loose and relaxed and ready to be taken and Dean had to restrain himself from reaching out, claiming them as his own.

They sat in the back row of chairs, Castiel on the far end, Dean beside him, and Rachel after Dean. She sat beside him, leaning in to him. Dean leaned a bit in to Castiel. He could smell the faint scent of his cologne, and he wondered why he'd never noticed it before.

It was calming.

Castiel stuck true to his word, and put on a horror movie, snuggling down into his chair as Alona padded in with blankets in her hands. She dropped a few on Castiel before taking the rest up to the front with her friends. They giggled as they spread them out over their bodies, Castiel doing the same to their own.

They were only given three, so Dean got the smallest one, and used the overlap of the other two blankets to cover himself. He was grumpy about it, upset at how he didn't get a full sized blanket to himself, though he wasn't sure why. He really didn't even want a blanket in the first place. But Castiel's fingers were worming under Dean's blanket and his own, moving to brush his fingers against Dean's wrist, then his hand.

Dean looked over at him, but Castiel was watching the screen, his fingers still crawling over his own, testing the waters, his tips brushing in between the gaps of Dean's spread out hands.

He never looked away from Castiel, waiting until the other sent him a brief look of contemplation as he squirmed his fingers between Dean, threading them loosely. Dean waited a moment, letting their hands relax before arching his palm back, sliding their fingers tighter together.

They both let loose a faint smile, wiping it from their faces as quick as it showed up.

The movie passed rather unceremoniously, the only real thing happening besides the girls up front yelping at frightening intervals was Rachel inching her way towards Dean, her hand on his thigh by the end of the movie, Dean's arm around her to satiate her.

She winked at him as one of Alona's friends hopped up to turn on the lights in the room, and stood herself, turning to leave with Anna with a small wave.

Dean and Castiel stayed behind to pick up the blankets.

"You sure look cozy with Rachel," Castiel said, folding a blanket over his arm.

"Well, she sure was with me."

"If you want be with her, that okay," he said, sweeping up another blanket.

"Have you forgotten I'm gay?" Dean asked, picking up the last blanket. He stepped to Castiel, their cloth-laden arms pushed together. "And I don't want to be with her. I want you, even if you don't want me."

Dean left it open, his eyes hopeful, urging Castiel to respond with what he wanted to hear. He didn't, not really. "I said you tonight. Meet me in room in… soon, okay?"

A blink. "Okay."

"Okay." Castiel stepped in, kissing his cheek. "Okay. Now give me you blankets."

"Huh?"

"In your arm. Give blankets."

Dean passed them over. "I like how you talk when you're tired."

"How I talk?"

"With a stronger accent. And you leave out more words."

"Okay."

"That sounded offended," Dean said, stepping up behind Castiel who was walking out of the room, turning down a narrow hallway that led to the laundry room. He wrapped his arms around him the best he could, fingers nestling in to the blankets in front of him, effectively pulling him to a stop. "I didn't mean it."

"See, this why not want kiss you. Act so different now."

Dean wormed around in the narrow path to face him. "I'm sorry, I am. But those were the most perfect kisses I've ever had in my life, and that's saying something. I've kissed a _lot _of people."

"That supposed to me impress?"

"I… what?"

Castiel stared at him blankly, giving Dean a minute to decipher his words. It hit him. "Oh. Oh! No. No, no. I just… I meant it as.. I-"

Dean was flustered. "-I get it. Go to room. I soon to be seeing you."

"You really can't speak English well when you're tired."

"Go fuck yourself, jackass."

Dean couldn't help but to laugh, dropping his arms from Castiel. "Hah, oh god. Okay." He was still laughing at the absurdity of how swiftly Castiel had shot that out to him as he wedged beside him to the exit of the hall. "You- okay. Okay."

Castiel was smiling faintly, and Dean knew he hadn't been vindictive in his words. He didn't say anything as Dean walked away, just waving with the two of his fingers that were poking out from under the mass of blankets.

Dean sent him one last smile before rounding the corner of the hall, swinging around to the staircase. He hopped up it, strolling his way through the second floor to the staircase leading up to his room. He was stopped close to it.

"Hey! Mister cutie blond-blond… blond boy."

Dean paused, looking down to where the voice had come from. Alona and her friends were out of what Dean assumed to be her room, holding a golden ball in her hand. He raised an eyebrow, wandering over to them. "Me?"

Alona's eyes grew wide. "Youuuuu!" She was drunk.

"Me," Dean cheered back, slightly sarcastically, wondering when, exactly, she'd had so much to drink. "Can I help you with something?"

"Locked… locked out," one of her friends giggled, and Alona held up the broken off door-knob.

Dean's eyes grew. "How did yo-?"

"I broke c-cause…" Alona paused to hiccup. "Cause I broke it."

Helpful. "Alright, so what do you want me to do?"

"Get us in?"

Dean looked over at the door, which looked as though it should easily be opened. He pushed on it. It didn't budge.

He looked over at the girls, Alona specifically. "You mind if I kick it in?"

She shook her head no, the group of them taking a collective step back to watch in awe.

Dean shook his shoulders, then took a quick step forward, kicking hard near the lock. The door swung open easily on its hinges, and the girls cheered, all filing in to her room, which was bigger than Castiel's. Alona stopped to hug him. "Thank you blond boy man boy. Uhhh… Dean!"

Dean nodded, patting her back. "Sure thing."

She smiled and ran off in to her room, closing the door behind her. Dean hoped they wouldn't be trapped in there.

With a final look at the door, Dean turned to leave, only to be stopped by a door opening right behind him. He stopped turning to look back.

Rachel smiled at him. "Heard you in hall."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Your sister got locked out."

"I saw. She broke it for fun. Want to see if she can."

Dean smiled, taking a step back to lean against the wall across and slightly off center of Rachel's door. "Well, she succeeded."

Rachel's eyes were light, though not as gorgeous as Castiel's. Her jaw was strong, and her skin was pale and soft. She was gorgeous, just like the rest of the Novaks, and Dean wondered just how rigged the genetic lottery had been when they were born.

She stepped to him. "She sure did. Thank you for sit with me in movie."

"No problem," Dean responded.

"It very sweet of you," she said, running her fingers down Dean's arm, brushing soft across his wrist and the palm of his hand.

"No problem," Dean repeated.

She stepped closer, grabbing his hand. She sure was persistent. "Thank you, Dean," she muttered, raising up on her toes to kiss his cheek, very near to his lips. Dean didn't really respond, aside from turning his head just a fraction.

He wasn't expecting her to lean in, locking their lips together without any warning, raising her hand up to cup his face and neck. Dean let out a muffled sound of surprise, but she ignored it, holding him closer.

There were footsteps in the main hall, and Dean rolled his eyes over to see Castiel, who paused less than a second in his steps, taking the sight in before continuing on to his room, not letting any emotion show on his face.

Dean felt sick. He pushed Rachel away gently. Her lips were swollen from kissing him, and Dean had to admit that if there was a female version of Castiel out there in the world, she would be it, but her kiss did nothing for him, not even a spark of recognition in it.

He shook his head. "Rachel, listen. I'm really sorry, you… you're a gorgeous girl, but… But I'm not interested."

"Why?" Her voice seemed let down, though not pissed. Dean was grateful for that. He'd seen pissed Novaks.

"There's someone else…" His eyes rolled over to the now-empty main hallway, his body urging him to go follow Castiel, despite hearing his door slam shut just moments before. "Someone else…" he repeated, just for himself.

She followed his gaze. It took a moment, but all of the parts clicked together. "Oh god. You like my brother."

Dean looked almost guilty, as though he'd led her on. "Yeah."

"Oh god." She stepped away from him. "He probably so pissed."

Great. "Great."

She dropped his hand, giving him a slight push on the shoulder. "I so sorry. So sorry. Now please go get baby brother." Dean liked the pet name Castiel's sisters gave him. "I'm so sorry. Please. Go."

Dean nodded, thanking her, in part for understanding, and in part as an apology as he jogged off, hopping up the stairs. He tried to open Castiel's door. It was locked.

"Castiel let me in."

"No."

"Why?"

"No."

"I've already kicked in one door today, don't make me do another."

There was gentle padding across the floor after a minute, and Castiel's door cracked open. Dean barged in, though he wasn't expecting what he got.

Castiel had his hands on either side of Dean's neck nearly immediately, whipping him around and pinning him to the wall without much effort on his part, Dean like a limp balloon in his hands.

"Why you do it, huh? It enough to lead me on, but my sister? You not going to two time my family!"

"What!?" Dean said, and Castiel just pushed on him harder.

"Stop acting like not know! I saw kissing Rachel."

"She kissed me!"

"Like it make difference!"

"I didn't kiss back!"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Why you outside her room?"

"I was helping Alona. She stopped me."

"What you helping Alona with? Fucking her too?"

"No! No! I'm _gay_. God."

"So? My sisters very pretty."

"I know, but you're better."

Castiel's grip had loosened enough that Dean could thrust his shoulder up, knocking his hands off of his neck. He grabbed them as soon as he could, though Castiel struggled to get them back. He got one free, but gave up on the other. "I don't want them. I want you. I've already said that."

"So? Why let her kiss you, huh?"

"I wasn't gonna smack your sister!"

They were closer than they'd been, and Dean's arm began to hurt from how fast his heart was racing, and how frustrated he'd grown. Castiel wasn't responding, so Dean did all he could. Tugging on Castiel's hand to bring him in, he kissed him, cupping his face with his free hand.

There was a brief moment where Castiel responded, tight facial features relaxing under his touch, though they were strong again in just a matter of seconds.

A hand slapped across Dean's face, and he broke the kiss with a quiet, drawn out groan, bringing a hand up to cover the sore spot where Castiel had slapped him. "What was that for?"

"Why you kiss me?"

"I was trying to get you to talk!"

"I had nothing else to say."

Dean was still holding Castiel's hand. "Then what's going to happen?"

"What you mean?"

"I mean, with us. I wanna be with you, Cas."

Castiel bit the inside of his lips, barely an indent on the outside of his stoic stature. "Was going to try you..."

"Please tell me you're still going to."

It was silent for seconds, minutes, hours even, it seemed, but Castiel finally spoke. "Yes."

Dean was still though his mind relaxed, and stepped in to Castiel after a minute, hugging him, nestling his face in to the convex of his shoulder and neck. Castiel groaned. "Why you hug?"

"Because we're a sort-of thing now. I think I can hug you."

Castiel pushed on him lightly. "Stop."

"Why?"

Castiel pushed on him harder, getting him away from his body as he stepped back. "I said so. Just cause we thing not mean you can do… do whatever. Now come." He grabbed his hand, dragging him out of his room and in to Dean's.

Dean looked around, confused, as he was left in the center of his room while Castiel walked away. "Why are we in here?"

Castiel came out of Dean's bathroom with a washrag and the minty ointment. Dean groaned, earning an eye roll. "Stop being baby." He pushed on Dean lightly when he got to him, trying to get him to sit on his bed.

Dean plopped down. "Should we be doing this now? I mean… you know… sex?"

"We not have sex tonight."

"Not going to?"

"No."

Dean pouted, though covered it up. "Why not?"

"Because," Castiel started, yawning as he began to unwrap the bandage on Dean's arm. "You injured, and as hot as is, it not good idea."

"But I want you," Dean said, reaching out with his free hand to grab Castiel's hip. The other didn't fight against it.

"I know."

"Can't I have you?"

"No." Dean was still tugging on Castiel's hip, but he didn't move until Dean's wound had the ointment rubbed over it and his bandage re-wrapped. He stepped forward, though wouldn't move any more than that, despite Dean trying to get him on to his lap.

"Please?" he begged.

"No," Castiel said again.

"Cas, please," Dean said, standing, bringing his other hand to Castiel's hip, holding him. "I want you so bad."

Castiel looked down at him. "No." He stepped back. "But you can come with me. Sleep, I guess."

"I can sleep with you?" Dean asked hopefully as he followed Castiel –who hadn't stopped moving the moment Dean began speaking– out of the room.

"We a thing now, no?"

"We are." They entered Castiel's room, and Castiel stripped off his shirt. Dean stopped to watch his muscles move and shift in awe. He wanted to reach out and touch, but was frozen. "We're a thing."

"Good." Castiel pulled down his pants, kicking them off before crawling on to his bed, laying down where he was comfortable. He didn't say anything, just simply looking back after a minute to send Dean a look, his eyebrow raised high, his eyes practically demanding him to join him.

Dean did.

He crawled in to the bed and over Castiel to wedge himself between him and the wall, kissing his nose as he settled down. Castiel scrunched his face up. "No. Not do that."

"What? This?" Dean kissed his nose again.

"I said not do," Castiel growled at him. Dean stopped, leaving them in silence for a minute. "This kind of weird," Castiel said.

"Why?"

"I usually leave by now."

"Well, just don't leave, or kick me out."

"What we do? I not… sex sleepy yet."

"It's cute when you say sleepy," Dean grinned. Castiel glared at him. "Okay, fine. You don't like that word."

"You such a pain in my ass," Castiel muttered, regretting their new arrangement just a minuscule bit. "You be so different now."

"Because you're like my boyfriend now. _Like_," he emphasized as Castiel's expression. "You're not just a fuck-buddy. I can't help it."

Castiel sighed. "It take time to get used to, I suppose." Dean nodded in agreement. "So, what we do until tired?"

A shrug. "We can talk."

Castiel scrunched his face up. "About what?"

"Anything. Like, why did we stop hanging out as kids?"

"Easy," Castiel responded. "My father finish what he need with yours, and we not see each other any more. I not really know your last name, you obviously not know mine, and we… we never meet up again until now."

"What were our dads doing together?"

Castiel shrugged. "I not know."

"Is that why you didn't recognize me that day on the beach? My name, at least?"

"Probably."

"It's a shame," Dean started, leaning in to kiss Castiel, worming his hand up between their bodies to cup Castiel's cheek against his pillow. "that we were apart for so long. Who knows? We could have been best friends, or boyfriends, or-"

"-You my first kiss."

"W-what?" Dean sputtered after a moment, eyes growing wide with confusion. "No I wasn't."

"Yes you were."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Stop arguing me."

Dean shook his head. "When did we kiss? How?"

"You want full story?" Dean nodded. "Okay. So, you a little older than eight, and I almost eleven. Like, few weeks before my birthday, and I feel bad because I pretty sheltered, you know, dad not trust a lot of families. Anyway, I sheltered enough I not get… Uhhh, not get first kiss yet. But you my only friend, and you had yours already, and you kinda make fun of me, and I not… not happy. You see, and say that you sorry, and that since we so close, that maybe you can kiss me."

"And I did?"

"And I told you I not that weak, and I walk away, and then the next day I have to go to your house and we sit in that tree house and I say that we can kiss. And we did."

"Was I good?"

"You very gentle."

Dean smiled, his teeth showing. "That good?"

"For eleven year old."

Dean smiled more, kissing Castiel once again. "Hopefully I'm better now."

"Not really," he joked, grinning briefly, kissing Dean, initiating it himself for the first time since that morning.

"That's mean."

"I not care."

"I know. So, if we'd kissed before, why did you wait so long to kiss me this time?"

"Story for another time," Castiel yawned. "Time for bed."

Dean pouted, but didn't argue it, afraid Castiel would kick him out of bed. "Time for bed?" Castiel nodded, and Dean brought his hand under Castiel's cheek to rest under one of the pillows above them, his other hand coming to rest on Castiel's hip, thumb rubbing circles in to his smooth skin.

Castiel shivered. He clearly wasn't used to the touches Dean wanted to give him. Dean brushed his nose against his jaw, just to test his theory, and Castiel shivered again. He grinned, and Castiel figured out his plan.

Putting a stop to it, he kissed him hard, though Dean was having none of it, pulling back enough to make the kiss soft. Castiel groaned. "I not like being gentle."

"It's time for bed. You're supposed to be gentle."

"Well, I not like it."

"Get used to it," Dean muttered, leaning in to kiss Castiel once more, letting it linger until he pulled away with a grin. "That feels so good." Another kiss. "Goodnight, Cas."

"Where that nickname come from?" Castiel mumbled, not really bothering to wait for a response with a shake of his head. "Goodnight, Dean."

* * *

**Yay that was fun. Regardless, I haven't even started on another chapter yet, and I have to sort of map out some more things for the last half or so of this story, so it may be kind of a while? Like, a month max, but still.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading!**


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